


it was you i was thinking of

by mallory



Series: it’s what you do to me (oh amy) [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Eventual Jake/Amy, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Spoilers for Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:52:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 26,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mallory/pseuds/mallory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In her world of black and white, Jake doesn’t just smudge the lines for greys; he unceremoniously splashes an array of vibrant colours that seep into her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. undercover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from ‘The Mixed Tape’ by Jacks Mannequin.
> 
> This is word vomit and I’m not even sure it makes sense, but I couldn’t write anything else until this mess was done. The premiere was fantastic in the way the writers had Jake be respectful of Amy’s feelings and her relationship with Teddy. Every other fucking TV show and film need to take note.
> 
>  ~~I don’t know what this is yet. It may be a collection of missing/extended episode scenes for this season or it may stray off away from canon and into AU with its own storyline. I guess it depends on your response. Either way~~ I’m hoping this will explore from Amy’s perspective and their relationship in more detail post-not holding anything back. Please let me know what you think and don’t be afraid to call me out if you disagree with what I have written. I feel that I’m teetering on their characterisation, so I’d love to discuss headcanons and/or metas.
> 
> Unbeta’d.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy’s missed Jake in the six months he was gone. She missed his teasing of her need to iron her work blouses. She missed sharing private giggles over the strange perps that roam their beloved city. She’s even missed his sextape jokes.

She’d be lying if she says she doesn't think about what he said the night he disappeared into the darkness. It took a while for her mind to wrap around the fact that Jake has feelings for her, considering he always picked on and made fun of her. (And then it clicked.)

But she’d also be lying if she says the feeling is mutual.

She needs someone reliable, and understanding of her workload—not that Jake doesn’t possess those qualities. But Amy needs a man who respects her and shows it, who’s mature and expresses similar interests as her own. Teddy is that man. If anything, Jake’s admission invigorated her feelings for Teddy. She sees their relationship in a whole new light, and she spent the last six months focusing on work and Teddy. They grew closer when she proposed he start sleeping over at her apartment every few nights. He doesn’t hog the blanket and he never forgets to put down the toilet seat.

She’s happy with her other relationships at work. She and Rosa have an understanding that they have each other’s backs no matter what in the precinct filled with testosterone. Gina’s giving her make-up tips in exchange for self-defense lessons. Charles lets her have a sample of his lunch whenever they have their lunch breaks together. She’s even learning to speak her mind with the Captain.

(She still tags on disclaimers of disrespecting his decisions and authority at the end, but baby steps.)

She almost went insane running through things in her head, if it weren’t for the fact she consulted with Teddy. Yes, she told him about Jake. She really wants to make this work, and trust and honesty are the two most important in any relationship.

Amy is perfectly content with her life.

Until Jake approaches her at the bar tonight.

“I just don’t wanna hold anything back,” he finishes, his unusually deep voice making it hard for her not to squirm.

“Well, thank you for saying that,” she says, the tone of surprise she couldn't hold back the only tell to her thoughts. He nods firmly; once, and she hastens to add, “Just ask long as we’re clear that I’m with someone, and nothing is gonna happen.”

He nods again, more slowly this time, as if dejected. A pause. Then: “ _I’m With Someone, Nothing’s Gonna Happen_ —name of your sextape.”

Relief floods her as she exclaims proudly, “He’s back!”

After taking another sip of the cocktail in a lapse in judgement, she goes to the bathroom to rinse her mouth. It’s there that her phone pings the notification that someone’s texted her.

    **Hey Babe! On my way to the bar now. Xx**

She smiles a closed-mouth smile. Last night she casually mentioned Jake coming back today and Teddy expressed eagerness to see him again after so long.

(“That Jake guy is cool. His jokes are a little out there, though. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. I like his jokes. I think they’re funny.”)

She goes to close the message, but the door slams somewhere outside of the ladies’ room, and her fingers slip on the screen, accidentally opening her texts with Jake.

**25 cases solved while you were gone, Peralta.**

**Whatevs saved america in 6months for the fbi that's worth a hundred cases**

It’s their first texts to each other in six months, and a laugh bubbles out of her mouth despite the familiar knot in her stomach at his text speak. She knows he does it just to annoy her now, and the perfectionist in her is thoroughly irritated, but another part of her is glad he’s still the same Jake she’s always known. She didn’t get to spend much time with him today, as he had been wrapping up the Lannucci case and she had been doing drills via the Captain’s orders.

Amy lets out a breath and combs her fingers through her hair, grimacing to her reflection at the tangles that tug at her roots.

_I just don’t wanna hold anything back._

His words stir those same feelings and ideas of how her life is supposed to turn out, what she would like to see as her future. She and Teddy are good. But there’s been this niggling voice in her head today that that’s the problem. They’re not amazing; fantastic; (or, dare she say it) _perfect_. She can’t honestly use adjectives that don’t sound like a brush off when loud and rude Uncle Alejandro asks how life is treating her (good, fine, okay, sometimes even great).

During these past six months, never did she ever fight with Teddy. Never was there a spark of passion that made her simultaneously love him even when she hated him. They like the same things, and it had been so refreshing to go antique shopping on Sunday mornings, to call in saying she couldn’t make it because she was stuck on a case at work and if they could post-pone their dinner, only to hear that he’s doing the same. Amy feels like she’s dating a guy version of herself. It’s not as fun as she would have imagined. She’s trying to make it work, and it saddens her that she can’t see a future with Teddy, no matter how much she wants to.

When she brought him to meet her favourite brother over dinner one night, she had expected playful verbal jostling and cracks at their competence as detectives or a competition over who has the grossest arresting stories. Things she normally does with Ben. But everything was perfect. Ben was on his best behaviour, asking Teddy about his family and how much he enjoyed being a detective. At the end of the night, Ben kissed her on the cheek and whispered about how Teddy is a ‘nice guy’ and how happy he is for her, before ruffling her hair and taking off.

Sure, she is pleased that her boyfriend and brother get along, but there was a tiny nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something is missing. So tiny it was easy to push aside at the time. But the thing about ignoring small problems is that they sit there and fester, like a fungi on a tree. You’re blind to it as it grows and sucks at the nutrients at a steady pace. Until one day a strong breeze whips by and the frail tree breaks off at the roots.

There’s a knock on the door, and it almost startles Amy out of her skin. “Ames?”

Guilt splashes down on her like a bucket of cold water, trickling into her veins and spreading like a virus through her system. She hurries to the door and slaps on a bright smile. “Teddy!”

“Hey, Jake said you were in here." His gaze zips down her frame, a crease in his brow. "He also said that you must’ve fallen into the toilet bowl because you were gone so long. Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

_There’s that word again._

He leads her over to a table in the corner at which Jake is already sitting, three drinks on the table. Teddy steps back to allow her into the booth before he slides in next to her. “So Jake,” he begins, draping his arm behind her along the top of the booth. “Any good stories while you were away?”

Amy’s eyes seek Jake’s over the rim of her gin and tonic.

“There was a boxing match and one of the boxers was nicknamed ‘Pineapples’.”

She nearly snorts out her drink, laughter smothering the slight cough. “No way!”

Teddy smiles cluelessly. “I don’t get it.”

“That’s Jake’s nickname,” she explains merrily as Jake shakes his head, mirth brimming his brown eyes. “Everyone calls him that.”

“No one but you and my grandma calls me that,” Jake corrects.

“Aw, I’m the exception,” she teases.

Teddy grins, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “You’re also adorable.”

She turns her head to smile shyly at him, and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to her lips. Cheeks heating up, her shoulders hunch up in embarrassment of the PDA in front of a room full of her colleagues. Rolling her lips back, she’s almost reluctant to gauge Jake’s reaction, their conversation still fresh in her mind; aware of his feelings and unwilling to rub her relationship in his face.

He has a bottle of beer halfway to his lips when she looks over. There’s a flash of something in his eye, but then it’s gone when he presents her with a smile.

She smiles back, but she knows neither of them mean it.


	2. chocolate milk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of continuation from the previous chapter, but isn't melancholy like I left it, and also includes a missing scene from this week’s episode. (Which I loved, by the way. Terry is so wonderful.) So I've decided not to stray off into an AU storyline, but it will still be slightly AU as the chapters are missing and extended scenes that are loosely connected.
> 
> Annnd I had just realised today that the title of this fic is similar to another Jake/Amy work of mine, whoop.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

A week later and Amy still hasn’t managed to broach the subject with Teddy on their future. It’s not for the lack of trying, though. There was never the right time. On Tuesday, they played phone tag all day, busy with their own workload. She had the Thursday off, but Teddy was away visiting his sick grandmother in Florida.

Tonight, though, Teddy surprises her when he comes by to visit, arms loaded with two bag-fulls of groceries. He makes her dinner while she sits at the kitchen counter with a glass of white wine and watches him work.

After she cleans her plate, her stomach full of delicious Penne alla Siciliana and a glass and a half of wine, Amy blurts out, quite ungracefully, "So you and me—what do you think? Um… Where are we?"

He laughs lightly, reaching for her other hand lying uncharacteristically on the table.

(She had to stop her hands from fidgeting in her lap.)

“Are you okay?”

Amy pastes on a stiff smile. “Mm-hm. Just… you know, thinking about our future.”

“Well, I don’t know about you,” he teases, “but I like you, Amy. I think we’re at a really good place right now.”

“Yeah,” she says on a breath.

“I think we’re perfect.” Then he smiles at her, so softly, and leans forward to place a sweet kiss to her lips, before insisting that he clean the dishes because he made the mess in her home.

She feels nothing. Which makes her feel bad as guilt seeps into her skin, mixing with the alcohol in a dangerous concoction.

(Things are perfect, Teddy's perfect. It’s Amy. It’s her. She feels like she needs _more_. Of what, she still doesn’t know, which makes this all ridiculous. Things are perfect.)

In her uninhibited mind, Jake pops in, and as she watches Teddy at her sink, thoughts of what Jake would do plays inside her head.

Jake would’ve purposefully made even more of a mess in her kitchen until she’d make her way over to shove him out and clean up herself. Jake wouldn’t have cooked her dinner, being almost as bad of a cook as herself. They would have ordered take out and sat on her couch. He’d make comments on the bad reality show that’s on her television, and she’d almost choke on her noodles laughing.

A loud _bang_ of the pot hitting the wooden counter top shakes her out of daydream, and she sinks lower in her seat to stew in shame.

It takes a moment for her to grab onto her resolve, pull herself out of the seat and make her way over to help clean up. She’s careful not to touch him as he passes her dishes to place into the dishwasher, as if afraid he’d absorb the thoughts drowning in her head.

The worst of it, Amy believes, is that Teddy doesn’t say anything about her behaviour. She can’t tell which is more problematic: that he noticed it and just chooses not to speak up or he’s oblivious to it.

* * *

Amy has a confession. A dark secret.

She’s a _Downton Abbey_ fan. She likes to DVR to watch on Monday nights after work. It’s trashy soap opera in disguise by the pretty British accents, and it’s surprisingly entertaining. What’s even more scandalous is she’s pigging out on celebratory Mallomars for standing up to Captain Holt.

(She still can’t believe she did that.)

This is her Monday night.

When her phone rings, interrupting the collection of gasps from news of a pregnancy, Amy has two balls of sugary goodness melting in her mouth, and she jumps out of her skin. She hits pause on Anna Smith’s wide-eyed face, and chews and swallows quickly as she reaches for the phone on her coffee table.

“Amy,” someone wheezes as soon as she picks up.

“Who’s this!?” she demands, sitting up.

“The cookie monster.”

“Jake.” Surprise colours her tone.

She’s been avoiding him all week, feeling raw from the onslaught of emotions from when he came back. She gets the sense that he’s been avoiding her as well. On Tuesday afternoon, just as she entered the briefing room, a random boom sounded, like someone kicked the plastic lost and found box just outside the opposite end of the room where Gina had placed it that morning, followed by a loud string of profanity that sounded an awful lot like Jake.

“What’s up?”

A deep, muffled, grumble-y groan oozes through the phone. “Help,” he says on a gasp.

Sitting up, Amy sweeps her gaze to her bedroom, where her is gun tucked safely in her drawer. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Terry. We’re in bed together. He’s squashing me. I think I’m crippled; I can’t feel my legs.”

“What?” She laughs, reaching for her Mallomars and relaxing back into her couch. “Oh my god, I thought you were in serious trouble. Where are you, really?”

“I told you; at the Sarge’s house. Please come push him off. Bring back up. At least three other people.”

“Hmm.” She mulls it over as she takes a bite.

It’s difficult avoiding someone who sits at the desk opposite her, and this past week hasn’t been fun. Mostly tiring. Amy would never do anything to jeopardize her work relationship with Jake. And though she likes to believe that they’re professionals who can keep their personal issues separate from their work lives, there’s a strain in their friendship that seems more important than their dynamic as partners.

She sees things in black and white, and Jake smudges the lines for the grey.

There’s a faint looming threat that they wouldn’t be able to get past this and eventually become strangers outside of work. She doesn’t like it. She hasn’t been delusional in thinking that things would be easy between them and that they’d quickly fall back into the way they were. But she never counted it on it being this hard.

_That’s what she said._

Crap. Is she going through Peralta withdrawals that she’s resorted to making crude jokes like his?

Biting her lip, she decides that the only way to get back to the way things were is to make more of an effort. The key in a Jake and Amy friendship is friendly ribbing.

With that in mind, Amy shakes her head. “Nope.”

“Ah, c’mon!”

She lets out a laugh, and she feels lighter than she has in months.

“Could you at least talk to me until I fall asleep?”

She can hear the pout in his voice, and smiles. “What would you like to hear?”

“Tell me about your handshake seminar. That’s gonna knock me out.”

Rolling her eyes, Amy settles back further into her couch and turns off her television. “Well, I was having lunch with my brother.”

“Wait, which one?”

“David.”

“Cool guy. Go on.”

“He insisted on walking to this sports store four blocks away…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not watch _Downton Abbey_ and therefore do not know what actually happened.
> 
> As always, I'd really love to hear your thoughts!


	3. the jimmy jab games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“So you and Teddy,” Rosa begins, pushing Amy further into her booth. “How’s that going?”

After successfully motorcading the Serbian President safely from the airport, the precinct decided to head over to Shaw’s for some drinks. Amy had only just sat down with her drink when Rosa sauntered over. “Uh, fine.”

(She's working on it. Why _talk_ about their future when she can steer it in the right direction?)

She’s spoken to Rosa about her relationship a handful of times—it’s challenging getting together with Kylie when she works twelve hour shifts, and sometimes it’s easier to get relationship advice from work friends because they don’t hassle her for extremely personal details.

At first, Amy was hesitant to breach the subject, if her last conversation with Rosa about men is any indication.

(The shape of his ass is, apparently, as real as it gets for Rosa.)

But two months earlier when Amy worried to her in the ladies’ room about whether or not she and Teddy were going too fast with his sleeping over, Rosa was surprisingly helpful.

(“Does it feel right?”)

(Yes. It did.)

Rosa gives a head lift, her dark eyes looking down at her from behind hooded eyes. Then the corner of her mouth pulls up. “Cool.”

Taken aback by the abruptness of the conversation—Rosa’s a hard shell to crack, but as they’ve gotten closer, she’s become warmer in her interactions with Amy—Amy asks unsurely, “Is that it?”

“Yep. I just want you guys to be happy.”

Amy smiles. “That’s sweet. I didn’t know you liked Teddy that much.”

“Yeeeeeaaaahhh!” Jake whoops, storming in with his fist pumping, and leaps off the ground in front of their tables. “Guess who got a date for Thursday!? Rosa, my punk rock godmother, I am forever in your debt.”

Among Boyles’ offers to buy him a drink and shouts of support, Jake attempts to pull Diaz into a hug, only to be thwarted with a frighteningly mad growl.

Rosa gets up to leave after lingering pointedly with a look Jake’s way.

Amy supposes she’s warning Jake not to hurt Katie. But she knows that Rosa has nothing to worry about. Jake is a good guy. He was raised right by his mother and grandmother. She has no doubt that he would be respectful when it really counts. It’s one of the things Amy admires greatly about him.

Jake exhales loudly as he plops down in the seat across from her.

“Congrats on your date.” She raises her glass slightly.

“Thanks. Know any cheap places for a good date?”

“I’m sure you’ll find something.”

“I need this date to go well, you know?” He tilts his head at her, gesturing vaguely with his hand across the table. “I need to get past this. Get over this.”

“Yeah.” She nods faintly, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she repeats more firmly. “Katie’s a really nice girl. I think you’ll get along great.” She adds, for good measure, “Hey, don’t tell her the slug story, okay?”

“What?” He gapes in distress. “No, that’s my best story!”

“It’s gross!” She laughs. “Nobody wants to hear that.”

“As soon as I told you about it you made me show it to you.”

“Well, that was different. I didn’t believe you.”

He points a finger at her, grinning. “Ah, but I bet after that you never doubted me again.”

She crinkles her nose at the disgusting memory. “Never.”

Boyle passes Jake his beer, looking distracted, before he bids them a quick goodbye. “I gotta go. Spread your legs, Jake.”

“Wings! I’m spreading my _wings_!” he shouts after him, shaking his head.

Amy lifts her eyebrows when Jake turns his attention back to her.

“It’s nothing,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips. “Congrats on the win, by the way.”

“Thank you!” Then she deflates. “Did you see the Captain and Sergeant? They looked really mad… and disappointed.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen them like that before.”

“Do you think we’ll get into trouble tomorrow?”

He leans forward conspiratorially. “What, like ground us?” His eyes widen in feign distress.

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes, pushing at his arm, and he falls back into the vinyl of the booth, laughing.

She’s glad that he’s not being weird anymore. They fell right back into place this past week. It felt really good yanking each other’s chains and cracking jokes again. The Jimmy Jab Games is the most fun she has had in months, particularly being competitive with Jake again. At least, until he stopped hashing it back after their talk out in the courtyard.

For a week now, she’s been putting extra effort into making it like before he went dark. With one exception: she stops mentioning Teddy. It’s difficult, and she didn’t realise just how much she spoke with Jake about her boyfriend.

There’s an air of maturity to Jake now, but he’s still as silly as he has always been. She takes comfort in that it’s almost like it used to be, but she finds herself having to refrain herself from casually commenting on the things that reminds her of Teddy.

Jake’s back with their second round when he flicks her wrist. “Hey. You know, you don’t have to stop talking about him to me.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. Of course he's noticed. He’s a great detective, and Amy’s lucky to have him as a partner. She may seek Captain Holt as a mentor for when she will become a Captain herself, but she learns every day from Jake. He has a natural talent for solving mysteries and puzzles.

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to keep secrets," he continues. "We should be able to trust each other, right?” His eyes drift down as he shrugs, peeling at the corner of his bottle’s label. “Putting our hearts on the table.”

“You’re mixing metaphors.” She smiles. “But you’re right.”

“We’re not just work friends.” Jake’s eyes travel across the table and raise to meet hers. The corners are soft, accentuating the warmth in his browns. “We’re friend-friends.”

“We are,” she agrees, feeling lighter with every breath.

“Well, since we have that cleared up,” he declares, voice wiped clean of the heaviness, and sits straighter. “As your friend, I have an obligation to tell you that you’ve been sitting here with a smudge on your chin for the past three hours.” He reaches out and taps the skin right under her bottom lip. “Right here.”

She rears back with a gasp and swipes at her chin. “Did I get it?”

He squints, looking calculated. “Nope.”

She does it again, rubbing more vigorously. “How about now?”

“Ah, no.”

It takes her two more tries before he bursts out laughing and she figures out that he’s just messing with her.

“Next time,” she promises, pointing a finger at him.

He grins. “I’ll be waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos are love but comments help Amy see it's always been Jake.


	4. halloween ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so this week’s episode didn’t really give me much to go on. Plus Amy hasn’t really had her own storyline yet so it’s difficult to gauge where her head’s at. I read some spoilers just so I could get a hint of her emotional standpoint on both her guys and when things are going to bump up to the next level in terms of her and Jake, so there may be more battles between head and heart. (So far head has most of the control, but her heart is slowly trickling in.)
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

“See you tonight?” Teddy asks, and Amy can hear the smile through the phone.

Suppressing her own, she nods faintly. “Tonight.”

He promises that they won’t be interrupted again like two weeks ago when he got a call from work about an important case he was working on. He’s telling her about how he’s going to make it up to her tonight as she grabs her mug and makes her way from her desk to the break room where there’s an outcry that’s distinctly Jake’s.

They bid goodbye and she hangs up and walks in as Gina hums from the back of her throat in the condescending way she does from her place on top of the pool table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“ _You_ don’t know what you’re talking about!” Jake retorts.

Amy fills up her coffee cup as the too familiar rise and fall of their voices lull her mind into drifting. She’s excited to see Teddy tonight. It’s been two weeks since she last saw him when he had left in the middle of their date. Of course she understands, but she found herself disappointed. Not in him, but that their date had to be cut short. Amy’s been trying more, and she’s come to the conclusion that with the high risk of their jobs, the normalcy and boring in their personal lives is refreshing. It’s enough.

“Superman is the best superhero,” Jake announces, and from the tone of his voice, it sounds like this is the core subject of the heated debate. “Hands down.” He slams a palm down for emphasis.

Amy takes a seat at the table next to him as she sips from her mug, glancing at the newspaper under his hand as the warm liquid soothes her throat. She props her elbow holding her mug on the table and drags over a magazine beyond across from her, careful not to jostle the chessboard on which the Captain and one of the uniforms are playing, and randomly flips it open to a page.

“That is the worst thing I’ve ever heard!” Rosa rumbles deeply beside Gina, whose attention has drifted to her phone. Rosa braces her hand on the corner of the pool table between her legs as she leans forward.

Jake whips around in his chair, his right arm swinging back, and would have smacked Amy in the face if she isn’t already expecting the move. “You’re the worst thing _I’ve_ ever heard! Superman could _totally_ kick Thor’s ass!”

“Thor’s a god who has the hammer. He would smash that puny Kryptonian.” Eyebrows lower over her dark eyes as lips pull into a slight grimace. “Plus he doesn’t wear his underwear on top of his dumb Spandex suit.”

“Rosa’s right,” Amy pips up, earning a dramatic gasp from Jake, who twists back around to stare in wounded astonishment.

“Uh-oh,” Gina sings, eyes still glued to her screen as her Cheshire Cat smile creeps across her face, “three against one, D’Artagnan.”

“You take that back,” Jake growls at Amy in a choked voice, clutching his chest.

“Thor has a magical hammer, which is a weakness of Superman’s,” Amy states, elation pumping through her veins, “ _and_ he has battle experience going back thousands of years. You can’t beat that.”

Jake looks a bit stupefied, and she smiles proudly to herself. Then his expression melts into his commonplace teasing expression as the grin from his lips alights in his eyes. “I am so turned on right now.”

Shoving at his arm as he laughs, she scoffs. “Shut up.”

The Sergeant’s large frame fills up the doorway, looking tough and intimidating, but his expression is bright and amicable. He smiles at her as he makes his way inside, offering quiet greetings to the two detectives behind her as he passes by. “Hey Jake,” he says excitedly, “how was your date with Rosa’s friend?"

Jake deflates; his shoulders dropping half an inch and his face is wiped clean of the fiery passion and playfulness from earlier. He purses his lips and throws his head back, his eyes swirling around as he watches the ceiling fan swooping softly above them. “It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Amy asks.

( _She_ spent Thursday night outside in her yard, breathing in the fresh air. She had brought a book, but she couldn’t concentrate so she just stared up at the dark night sky and listened to the rambunctious children play on the other side of the wooden fence. It took her ten minutes until she couldn't resist lighting up a cigarette. While she smoked, she conjured up the perfect two kids that she and Teddy would have. Two girls with hair like hers and wonderful manners like their father. They’d be the perfect little girls who would never misbehaved and only be a little mischievous. The idea entertained her until she reached the bud of the cigarette, and with the numbing taste of the tobacco distracting her, she went back inside.)

He shrugs, dropping his head back to look at her. “She’s nice, but she’s not…” He trails off and clears his throat, his eyes sweeping to Hitchcock and Scully behind her. “Grape.”

A bubble of laughter escapes Amy’s lips. “What?”

“Grape-tastic!” he exclaims enthusiastically, eyes brightening. “She’s nice, but not grape-tastic. That’s the standard I hold my dates against.”

“I once dated a girl who would eat three pears every Wednesday,” Hitchcock chimes in.

“That’s nice.” Jake smiles at him, then his eyes widen as they seek hers out and he mouths, _What?_

Amusement ignites inside of her and fills up her face. Shaking her head, she takes another sip of her coffee and drops her head to stare at the pages of her magazine. Disinterested in the content, she lets her mind wander back to last week. The morning after that Thursday, Amy went back outside, having only remembered she left her book on the bench where she sat, and one of the kids next door whined about the other one pushing them off the swing. She couldn't help a laugh as she imagined a little Jake standing behind the swing with his innocent expression and arms level with his shoulders with palms facing up, as if saying, _What? Wasn't_ my _fault._

Sneaking a glance at Jake now, who’s staring down at his newspaper, she watches closely for the slight shifts in his expression; movements of his lips and crinkles in his brows, as he absorbs the page. Quickly averting her attention back to her own article when his eyebrows lift as his eyes slide over to her, she braces her arm along the edge of the magazine.

He’d be a good father. Her gut twists at what his own father had done, but Amy thinks that would make Jake ten times the father his own was. Their kids would be wild and—

“Attention boys and ghouls!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ETA: I know Terry doesn't talk to Jake until the next episode but I wrote this before that aired and can't change it because it's the focal point of this chapter.


	5. the mole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Something slams onto Amy’s desk, and she jumps back in surprise. Her eyes rocket up to see Jake standing there, eyes big, if not a little tired, and mouth spread wide like he’s proud. Frowning, she glances down at a big ball of newspaper. “Um… thanks, but I already read today’s paper.”

“No, there’s something inside. Open it!” He plops down in the chair beside her desk, practically bouncing in his seat. “C’mon, c’mon, open it!”

Laughing, she reaches for the mess, but then hesitates. “Wait, this isn’t like my birthday when your gift exploded, is it?”

“No. But that was pretty awesome, right?”

“Wrong,” she grumbles, reaching back to smooth her fingers through her ponytail. “It took me two bottles of shampoo to wash out the whipped cream from my hair.”

“Two!? It took me three!” he cries, indignant. “But my hair did look silky and luscious for weeks.” He grins, whipping his head back, flicking his non-existent curls. “I didn’t even have to wash it for a month after.”

“Okay, gross.” Her fingers curl over the package and then it’s yanked out of her grasp.

“Too slow!” He rips away the paper with the speed and excitement of a four year old on Christmas morning, pieces flying every-which-way around her desk area. “Ta-da!” He presents her with a brand new car squeegee. “Very sorry about the mess you made last night. You can use this to clean it up.”

Grabbing it from him, she shakes his head. “I already cleaned it up, but thanks, I guess.” She can’t help smiling, though. It was thoughtful of him, no matter how impractical his gift. It took her ages trying to get the powder from the air conditioning vent, but when she turned on the air conditioner this morning, pride burst from her chest when nothing but cool air blasted her face. “You’re picking up all of this, though,” she says, flicking a scrap of newspaper on her desk.

“Nu-uh.” He bolts upright, plucks up his coffee cup that’s placed precariously on the edge of his desk and marches away as he announces loudly over his shoulder, “That is _your_ area—you clean it up!”

Amy grabs handfuls of the mess and stands. “Jake!”

“Quiet down over there, Santiago,” Gina calls from behind her, and Amy swirls around to find the Gina’s feet propped up on her desk with a nail file in hand. “Some of us are trying to work here.”

Scrunching her face, Amy falls back into her chair and harrumphs. As rude as Gina is, Amy’s kind of glad she’s back to her apathetic self. Her conversation with her last night at the bar really did give her insight to things that she’s been pushing aside. And despite the fact that she knows Gina was only being nice and attentive to her chattering, it really did help Amy sort through her thoughts.

Turns out, the problem isn’t her and her dumb feelings not feeling things she should feel.

Teddy’s underwear isn’t the only bad thing about him. However, she has to say, it is one of the top things in the very short and very real list of ‘Bad Things About Teddy Wells’. But that’s the thing: he’s almost perfect. Seeing it in black and white reminded her of how her mom would always tell her that a good relationship is about bringing out a better version of someone. How can she bring out a better version of Teddy if he’s already the best he can be with her? It’s funny how his being this ideal guy has Amy picking at all the ways their relationship isn’t, in fact, perfect.

Gathering the mess Jake made into her arms, she stalks around to his desk, looks around so she’s sure no one’s watching her commit such a childish act, and sprinkles it all over the surface of his already cluttered table, and on his chair too for good measure. Feeling awfully giddy, she hurries over back to her side when she hears him making his way back over, and pretends to be intently focused on her computer screen.

“ _Heeeeeey_ ,” Jake whines.

“Now it’s on _your_ side.” Amy grins, deep satisfaction colouring her words.

“For fuck’s sake,” Rosa comments, striding past them. “Just put it in the trash.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Jake complains, throwing the crumpled paper at her like it's confetti.

“It’s the principle of your butt,” Amy fires back, narrowly dodging it from hitting her face.

“It’s the principle of _your_ butt.”

They bicker until Sergeant gets mad and comes at them with the vacuum cleaner in the storage closet and thrusts the thing into Jake’s arms with a stern, “Clean this up. Now. You two are being ridiculous."

Despite feeling silly and mildly scolded for arguing heatedly about something so trivial, Amy has to twist her lip from smirking in victory as Jake gets down on his knees and drives the sucky part around her feet.

(And okay, maybe she is a little daredevil and needs a good thrill of an argument every once in a while.

Maybe it’s the biggest reason why things with her and Teddy aren’t great… They never fight. Not even over the little things, like the TV remote—she deliberately tried to pick a fight with him once, but he immediately apologised profusely and promised to let her pay for dinner next time. Amy craves the fire and passion and rush of an argument, or even some form of conflict. It may be the competitiveness in her, but Amy’s afraid their relationship will fizzle out again, except instead of distance being the cause, it’s her inability to see where their future leads now that the buzz of their second chance has faded.)

“You missed a spot,” Amy tells him, pointing to the slip stuck under his shoe.

He squints at her, a warning smothering his expression.

Holding her hands up defensively, she sits back in her chair.

“You win this round, Santiago. But next time, I will be victorious,” he states dramatically in his spy voice.

Donning on a serious expression, Amy rasps in a spy voice of her own, “Not if I can help it…” Whipping her hair back, she darkens her face with a frown. “ _Peralta_.”

His mouth pushes into an ‘O’ as his eyebrows raise, a laugh of disbelief rushing out of him. “Wow.”

“Pretty good, huh?” She smiles. “Practiced that last night while cleaning the white goop off my car.”

He snorts loudly, and Amy shuts her eyes as her words register.

“Okay, wait, no—ew.”

" _Cleaning the white goop off my car_ —the Amy Santiago story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol can you tell I don’t even know where to go with Amy and Teddy? I wish they’d give more indication of and detail about the state of their relationship.
> 
> Anyway, comments are really appreciated. I haven't gotten around to reply to the ones from the last chapter because I've been super busy, but I will get to them soon!
> 
> What did people think of this week's episode? I was stoked they had more screen time together, and so incredibly amused they found out about Gina and Charles together. (Their reaction was in sync!!)


	6. jake and sophia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“I can’t believe Jake slept with a defense attorney,” Amy says, scrunching her nose in distaste. The image of Jake and the beautiful Hispanic woman tangled in his sheets plucks at the nerves down her spine, and she involuntarily shudders. “Ack.”

Rosa stares at her under familiar apathetic dark, hooded eyes. “It’s a betrayal to all of humankind.”

Amy’s eyes widen as she nods her head in agreement. “Right? Out of all the women, and he chose her.” She’s sure Sophia’s a wonderful person—but honestly, how wonderful could she be if she spends her time defending (alleged) criminals?

Rosa slams her foot on the edge of Amy’s coffee table, and Amy flinches. “You called me over for this?”

“No.” Amy reaches over her leg for the folder on the edge of the table. “I figured since you were so intent on making me Union Rep, you might want to brainstorm—”

“No.” Rosa crosses her arms, looking out of place in her black hard-edge clothes against Amy’s more feminine apartment.

Frowning, Amy flicks open the binder. “But I just want you to—”

“No.”

Sighing, she leans back against her couch. “Fine. Could you at least take your foot off my table?”

“No.”

* * *

Amy drums her fingers restlessly in her lap, staring unseeingly at her TV screen.

The air is still buzzing with Rosa’s annoyance that frothed for the last few moments before she left with a heavy slam to the front door that rattled Amy’s teeth. It’s just as well; Rosa was watching her with squinty eyes that put Amy on edge. Amy tried to ask what she was thinking, but all she got in return was narrower eyes and a calculated head tilt downward.

Her gaze drifts to the yellow kettle sitting on the shelf in the left corner of the room, where she stashes her cigarettes.

She shouldn’t. “It’s terrible for you, Amy,” she mutters the familiar mantra. “It’s not worth it.” Biting her lip, Amy bounces her leg and drags her eyes back to the TV.

_Just one wouldn’t hurt._

“Yes, it would,” she argues back under her breath. “I’ve been good for months. I can’t spiral. Not again.”

_You’re stressed. You’ve been good for months. You deserve it._

“Great. Now I’m arguing with myself.” Groaning, she leans forward with her elbows balanced on the end of her thighs. “Breathe.” She exhales, shutting her eyes tightly. In through the nose—out through the mouth.

Just when she’s starting to get herself under control, a traitorous whisper tickles her mind:  _Imagine inhaling the nicotine, all your stress and troubles absorbed and exhaled in a cloud of smoke._

Rolling her eyes up to the ceiling, Amy lets out a harsh breath.

Work. Work will distract her.

Scrambling for the folder on her coffee table, Amy sets out to plan for the next two union meetings.

* * *

An hour later and Amy’s a deer caught in headlights. With her hand in the kettle and eyes wide, she smiles hesitantly at Teddy, the front door open and an amused, curious expression clouding his soft features.

“Amy,” he intones.

“Teddy!” she exclaims breathlessly, trying to subtly remove her hand from the yellow ceramic. “What—What are you doing here?”

“I left my brewing kit here. But then I thought we should make a night of it together.”

“Oh. Um, I was just…” Her eyes zap around the room, landing on the roll of paper towels and bottle of antibacterial spray next to the union folder she used to wiped down the coffee table after Rosa left. “Cleaning.” She tacks on a smile as she weeps internally, her fingers brushing against the cigarettes.

(So close.)

Lifting her gaze, she catches his own eyes on the coffee table.

“It’s okay, Amy.” He closes the door behind him as he steps further into her apartment. “I know.”

Heart pounding, the small victory of having her hand back goes uncelebrated as she lets out a nervous laugh. _Oh no. About her cigarettes? That she’s beginning to hate Pilsners? About Jake?—and what? That she likes him? Because she_ doesn’t. “Listen…” She brings her hands in front of her, intertwining her fingers together. “Teddy—”

“A buddy of mine over at the 99 told me—you’re the new Union Rep, congratulations!”

“Oh!” She deflates, melting into a cocktail of guilt and relief. She’s not a good secret keeper, and secrets have no place in a relationship. Her mood swings dangerously low at the amount of secrets she’s keeping from Teddy.

“Let’s celebrate with some dinner and then Pilsner brewing!”

Amy digs up a smile, crossing her arms across her chest. “Great,” she drawls, unable to pluck up the energy for phony enthusiasm.

“So how’s work?” Teddy asks half an hour later as he offers to salt her chicken marsala.

She shakes her head and lifts her hand up to decline it. Sitting up straighter, she smiles at him. “It was dope. The Captain and I had a moment. Jake messed up in court—like that’s any surprise—and I helped his case.”

“And how’s Jake these days?"

Amy cocks her head at him. “He’s great.”

He digs into his own plate of chicken marsala and mumbles around his bite, “Seeing anybody?"

“Actually, he slept with the defense attorney on his case. Though he apparently didn’t know it at the time,” she adds as an afterthought. “It’s why he messed up in court."

"Defense attorney?" Teddy frowns before his mouth pulls down in loathing disapproval.

She laughs. “That was my reaction.”

Teddy grows quiet as he pushes around the contents on his plate. “So we never talked about it after he got back.”

Amy reaches for the glass of wine and hesitates with her answer. “About what?” She knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“His confession. I know you said that you didn’t see him the same way, but maybe after he came back, seeing him again and knowing what you know… changed things?”

Amy blinks.

A week after Jake went undercover, the anxiety of keeping things from Teddy and a lack of verbal release from the flood of thoughts going whirling around her head led to Amy spilling her guts out after a quiet night in watching a terrible romantic comedy. She paced a hole in her beautiful hardwood floors in front of the couch where Teddy sat, uncomfortably still as he listened to her bounce from thought to thought.

“Amy?”

Standing abruptly, she swallows with great difficulty and announces loudly, “I have to pee.”

And that’s how Amy finds herself locked in her bathroom, a cigarette between her lips (from the stash she keeps in her old birth control box) and her head out of the tiny window.

She holds out until he knocks on the door, ready to brew some Pilsners.


	7. lockdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“You’re totally mad that I’m in charge.” Jake grins, the straw of his soda pinched between his teeth.

Rolling her eyes, Amy steals another fry from his tray and pushes it into her mouth. “Just finish your food so we can grab the boxes of cabbages and get back to the precinct.”

“Wha—I thought you liked being in my company? Admit it, you volunteered to come with me just so you could get me alone.”

She smiles adoringly, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. “You’re right,” she states in a dramatic dreamy voice. “I just needed to have you all to myself!”

Jake’s face brightens. “Aw, Amy. You’re so sweet.”

She laughs as his face crumples and his shoulders hunch up, like he ate something sour but loves it. “What are you going to do with them anyway, the cabbages?” Reaching for another fry, she frowns. “And how are you affording it?”

“It’s a surprise. But trust me, it’s gonna be fun-tastic. You know Lou, the guy with the grocery store down the street?” He pushes the tray into the middle of the table. “He’s letting me buy them for a discount because they’re starting to rot and no one’s buying them.”

“You’re not going to make us eat them, are you?”

He purses his lips, shaking his head. His eyes catch something to the left of her head and leans forward conspicuously, his face up close to hers, and Amy feels her cheeks heat up.

She doesn’t dare move, holding her breath and gaze, trained wide on Jake’s deep, warm browns. In her line of sight she catches one side his mouth ticking up, and her gaze drifts down to study the slight curve above the corner of his lips.

“Don’t look now,” he murmurs, “but giggling girls at your six.”

She jerks back, about to twist her head around when Jake’s hand on her wrist stops her.

“I said don’t look.” He laughs softly.

She clears her throat. “You know when you tell me not to look, I _have_ to look.” His grip around her wrist is firm enough to feel the callous of his skin. She never really noticed how neat his eyebrows are. Her eyes trace the four freckles from his left cheekbone to the edge of his cheek.

(She secretly calls it the lightning bolt constellation.)

“You’re right.” He smiles. “My fault.”

“What are they giggling at?”

“Us. They’re pointing and laughing at us.” He frowns. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re perfect.” It comes out before she can think about it, and she’s sure his startled expression mirrors her own. “Your face is perfect.” She grows flush with embarrassment as Jake’s features melt into a teasing grin. “I mean, you—There’s nothing on your face, okay!?”

“You think I’m _puuuuuuur-fect_ ,” he sings. “You love my _faaaaa-aaace_.”

Amy laughs, pushing at his arm as she falls back into her chair. “You’re such a dork.”

Jake bats his eyes. “You love it.”

“Ow!" They both look up to see a girl around sixteen rubbing at her arm and smiling at them with restrained adoration. "Um, excuse me. Hi. My friends and I think you’re cute together.”

“I have a boyfriend!” Amy shouts over a pounding heart. People think they’re together? What about them screams _‘couple in love!’_? Nothing. That’s what.

“What she means”—Jake levels her with a pointed stare—“is thank you, but we’re not together.”

“Oh.” The girl deflates. “That’s too bad. Sorry for bothering you. Have a nice day.”

Amy watches Jake laugh to himself, shaking his head.

He doesn’t even like her anymore; he’s moved on. To Sophia. Not that that’s relevant. Well, okay, it is, but the point is: they’re not together. They’re friends. _Partners_. In the non-romantic way. Professional— _strictly_ professional.

She rubs at her forehead and exhales, reaching for her soda.

“For the record,” Jake begins. “I’d be an awesome boyfriend to you.”

“What?” Amy rasps, almost choking on her drink.

“Just saying.” He lifts a shoulder in a shrug, his gaze drifting down to the basket of fries still half unfinished. “You looked a little offended that they thought we were a couple.”

“Not offended.” She sighs. She contemplates lying to him, claim that she doesn’t like people assuming they’re romantically involved and that it’s not right to continue to let them think so, even though it does no one any harm. But she could never outright lie to Jake. Not even if she wanted to. So she settles on, “Just surprised.”

Lifting his head, he points a finger at her. “We would have been good together.”

Amy stiffens.

Jake slides his elbows from the centre of the table back to his side and crosses his arms. He licks his lips and nods once, a little crease between his brows. “So,” he perks up suddenly. “How are you and Teddy?”

_We would have been good together._

Why? Why did he say that?

“Fine.” She fiddles with the straw wrapping Jake carelessly threw at her earlier and avoids eye contact. “How are you and Sophia?”

“Good.” A beat passes. “Wanna go?”

She’s standing up before she answers. “Yeah.”

Jake opens the door for her, but an older couple are walking up from the outside. The entrance is gated off to protect people from falling off the slight platform along the window of the fast food restaurant, so Amy has to push herself against his side to let them through first. She smiles at them to distract herself from the hand that rests lightly on her back.

The pressure of his hand increases, signalling for her to go ahead after the couple have passed and Amy won’t admit that she’s reluctant to do so (because she is so not).

Waiting for him on the edge of the footpath where the red bricks meet pavement, she watches as he steps into the sunlight, the bright rays casting a glow and lighting up his hair into a warm, golden shade.

“Could I borrow twenty bucks?”

Amy blinks heavily, and they head off, falling into step together down the busy streets of Brooklyn. “Why?”

They stop at an intersection as he answers nonchalantly, “To pay for the stripper I ordered.”

She punches him arm as he does the pedestrian button.

“Ow, for the cabbages!” He laughs. “The cabbages!”


	8. USPIS

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

After escaping from Captain Holt’s office where the disappointment on the Captain and Sergeant’s faces is too much to bare, she rushes by her desk, avoiding the packet of Dunhill sitting mockingly in the corner of her desk.

In the break room, Amy busies herself making a new pot of coffee for the precinct.

“Hey.”

Jumping, Amy looks up at Rosa, who’s wearing the Jake Peralta brand of annoyance. “Coffee?”

Rosa slams a mug onto the counter. “Please,” she squeezes out.

Amy hesitates before carefully pouring in the steaming liquid. “The USPIS thing not going so well?”

Amy’s been avoiding Jake since that weird thing a few weeks ago. Which is difficult because they’re partners, but all she’s saying is, she’s glad for Rosa’s Giggle Pig task force that’s keeping him busy.—And making New York a safer place, of course.

Rosa huffs and then her brows draw together, nose pinching in disgust. “Why do you smell like a baby bathed in tobacco?”

“Damn it!” Amy frowns, taking a step back to look down at herself, like she’s visibly drenched with the scent. “I tried to mask the tobacco smell with Gina’s candle. It was either rubbing that on myself or Hitchcock’s deodorant.” She shudders at the thought of rubbing Hitchcock’s armpit sweat onto her person.

“Yeah, what’s with you lately? You’ve been smelling like more my Uncle Manuel for weeks now. Except without the booze and mould,” she tacks on in an afterthought, bringing the mug up to her lips.

Amy grimaces. Shaking her head, she sighs and takes a seat at the table and shrugs. “I guess it’s just work stuff. I went to the Union Rep meeting the other day? It was _insane_. How could they not have colour coded and labeled dividers for every topic in their binder? And don’t even get my started on alphabetising by order of category and date of law publication.”

If anyone could express cynicism with a single blink of their eyes, it would be Rosa. “Are you sure the Union Rep is all that’s put you on edge?”

“No. Yes.” Amy clasps her hands together in her lap to keep from fidgeting, the effort of breathing in and out nice and slow taking more brain power than necessary. Clearing her throat, she starts again more calmly. “I mean, with Jake on your task force, I’ve had a few more cases piled on. And Captain Holt’s been asking me to work more— _Not_ that I’m complaining! I love work!” She laughs nervously, shifting her eyes toward the two doors that lead into the break room, cautious of eavesdroppers.

“So Jake and Sophia—”

“Oh my god!” Throwing her hands up, Amy flies forward in her seat. “That’s all everyone talks about these days! Jake and Sophia”—she whips her wrists this way—“Sophia and Jake.” She whips her wrists that way. “Sophia, Sophia, Sophia!”

“ _Santiago._ ” Rosa’s disapproving expression effectively sobers Amy, and she stiffens as the devastating fact dawns on her. Amy’s jealous. She’s jealous of Sophia.

She can’t deny it any further, it’s driven her to smoking again.

Amy likes Jake.

Deflating back into her seat, she rubs a finger over her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be if you don’t let him know how you feel.”

Lifting her gaze in uncertain surprise, she regards Rosa. “I don’t think telling Jake about—" Oh god, she can’t feel her fingertips. "He’s _Jake_.”

Rosa lifts a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I meant Teddy. But Jake too.”

“Oh god.” Amy rears back in horror. She completely forgot about her _boyfriend_. “Teddy!”

“It’s not fair to him.”

“I’m a horrible person,” she whispers, wide eyes trained on the ugly scarf Gina brought in this morning lying limply on the couch. She deserves looking at something as equally horrendous as she herself is.

“Hey.”

Amy lifts her eyes, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

Rosa’s eyes shift and she clears her throat. “You’re a good person. You just need to set things right.”

A smile tugs at Amy’s lips at the unexpected kindness from her friend—it still needs getting used to. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” she utters deeply, shrugging.

There it is.

“You know,” Amy begins, “you’re a good person too.”

“Detective Diaz?” A uniform has his head poked into the break room, a poorly masked intimidated expression etched onto his face. “Detective Peralta is here.”

Rosa shoots up cooly, the heel of her shoe almost flipping her chair over. “I need to take care of this.”

* * *

“Heee-eeeey, Amy Santiago!” Jake bounds up to his desk with surprising enthusiasm.

Amy doesn’t shift her eyes from her computer screen, intent on finishing the last of the security recordings for the jeweller case. “You’re awfully chipper this morning.”

“Did you hear about the raid last night? We totally kicked Giggle Pig butt.”

“Oh yeah, Rosa told me. Congrats.” Amy slaps the pause button to smile at Jake.

“Coffee?” He offers one of the three cups in the tray he’s holding.

Gasping, Amy reaches forward to accept, almost launching herself across the desk. She’d recognise that logo anywhere. “Molly’s!” Imagine the most amazing cup of coffee you’ve ever had. Now multiply that by, like, a billion. Molly’s sells the most delicious cup of joe in New York. Possibly the world. But they’re incredibly expensive and all the way across town. “Who’s the other one for?”

“Rosa. Celebratory drinks for last night. Got you one too ’cause I know you love their lattes.”

“I do.” She sighs, cradling the cup to her lips. “I’ll pay you back with lunch.”

“No need!” Jake stretches with arms over his head, a goofy grin on his face. “I got this.”

She’s tempted to protest, but settles on a simple, "Thank you."

She enjoys their usual banter, and even grudgingly accepts his teasing her, but these moments of kindness from Jake warms her, and it proves that there is a wonderfully soft side to him.

“No probs. So, what’d you do last night?”

“Ah, nothing, really.”

(Teddy wanted to hang out last night, but Amy gave him the excuse about being buried in her cases—which was true, but she didn’t feel like having company. His, specifically. And that led to a glass of wine and three hours of analysing that terrible thought—along with the realisation that she has feelings for Jake. That she compartmentalised her relationship with Teddy and her relationship with Jake to avoid the guilt that would cloud her thinking. Surprisingly, it didn't surprise her that she likes Jake as much as the time it took for her to realise it herself.

At 11:42PM, Amy concluded that she needs to break up with Teddy. She doesn’t want to settle for ‘fine’ or ‘good’ anymore, nor does she want a relationship with someone who _should_ be perfect for her or how that person _should_ make her feel. She wants someone who she knows like the shelf of her alphabetised books, but can still surprise her. She wants someone who doesn’t judge the immature side she’s aware she has—and even more, someone who can be as equally as childish. She wants someone who can make her laugh until her stomach hurts. She wants someone who isn’t afraid to critique her. She wants—)

“Cool,” Jake replies mockingly. “Sophia and me went to pound town. If ya know what I mean.”

Yes, unfortunately, she does. Pasting on a smile, Amy turns back to her computer, suddenly too queasy for her delicious latte.


	9. the road trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Teddy and I’m glad they didn’t make him out to be a jerk because I don’t see that he would have been. I’m really hoping he won’t come back, though, otherwise this chapter would be moot, but I really wanted to write this.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy tentatively approaches her (teacup themed) room. Pressing her ear up against the door, she hears muffled shuffling before a loud exclamation of PG-13 profanity.

The door opens and Amy gasps so hard she swears her heart is lodged in her throat. She rears back with her hands held up stiffly in front of her chest, a reaction that’s conditioned from years of living with brothers who would jump out behind corners and push at her.

Teddy’s standing there, looking slightly rumpled with a barely zipped, bulge-y looking suitcase. “‘Scuse me.”

The perfectionist in her frowns. She can’t let him go with his baggage looking like that. “I know you’re mad, but—”

“I’m not mad, just…” He sighs, driving a hand over his head. “I’m disappointed.”

Amy deflates, guilt weighing down her shoulders. “In me?”

“No, with myself.” He jerks at the handle of his suitcase, but it doesn’t budge. A sudden burst of anger erupts from him in the form of his hands being thrown up.

She smiles in spite of herself. Teddy’s a sweetheart, and she’s teased him on more than one occasion of how fitting his name is. “Here.” Amy pushes the door open and bends to grab the bag, sidestepping him to place it on the bed.

Muted shuffling of shoes against carpet sound behind her before the door clicks softly. “I saw it.”

“Saw what?” she asks, assessing the contents of his messily packed suitcase. It looks like he hastily threw everything inside.

“I saw how he looked at you. Back on Tactical Village Day. I didn’t think anything of it at first, and Jake’s a good guy; I knew he wouldn't have done anything knowing we were dating. But then he told you before he went undercover. And I knew I was going to lose you.”

Amy pauses halfway through with folding his t-shirt. She can’t bring herself to turn around and face him, afraid of and unable to stomach what she’ll see on his face. Heartache? Disgust? Amy knows staying friends would be a long shot, but she hopes at least that they leave on friendly terms. It’s the only thing that kept her feet moving back to their room instead of the recreation area where Claire promised a rematch.

Bracing herself, she looks over her shoulder. His shoulders are slightly hunched and his arms are crossed, like he’s trying to shield his beaten and battered heart from the wicked witch (—her). He’s watching her, trepidation in his expression. She turns around to face him completely andher stomach clenches as he takes a step back.

“Teddy, I…”

He waits for her, but she can’t thinking of anything to say. “I don’t think you knew you have feelings for him. It wasn't right, but I used that and I held on tighter because I think I was really falling for you and wasn’t ready to lose you. I listened as you tried to analyse your way out of it for an hour that night. And I think it was working, but there were moments where I felt you slipping between my fingers. Those moments where you were quiet; seemed far away. I thought that if I tried hard enough that maybe we could make it; that what Jake told you wouldn’t mean anything.” He shakes his head. “And then he came back.”

“I tried to be honest with you about it,” she says, then winces. That sounded like she was trying to make an excuse; justify herself.

He nods. “The best you could, considering. I don’t blame you. I can’t blame you for having feelings for someone else, especially since you guys didn’t do anything about it.” He pauses and frowns unsurely at her. “Right?”

“Yes!” she asserts. “We didn’t do anything.”

Teddy sighs, dropping his arms as he draws closer to her.

Amy holds her breath, watching his movements like a hawk. What is he doing? Is he going to hug her? Push her? As he rounds her to take a seat on the side of the bed, she lets out a breath and closes her eyes. Taking a seat beside him, she clasps her hands in her lap and stares down at her boots.

“I guess I just wanted you to realise it first and then make a decision: me or Jake.” Teddy lets out a puff of air that sounds like a laugh, but it’s filled with despair. “I suppose you finally did.”

This isn’t how she planned this ending at all. A tiny part of her buzzes with annoyance at Jake, but she can’t help appreciating how sweet and innocent his intentions and gestures were nonetheless—and damn it, that’s half the problem. “Teddy, I’m really sorry.”

“No need,” he replies lightly, a bittersweet smile on his face. “Ah, I should re-pack.”

“Oh yeah, no, let me help.”

As they pack silently, Amy can’t help stealing glances at him. She apologises a few more times, but is only met with a brushing remark, which makes her feel sorrier.

The fuller his suitcase gets, the slower her packing becomes, and she finds herself dreading Teddy leaving. Their breaking up is a good thing, and if Amy’s being honest, she’s been thinking about it for a long, long while, but he’s genuinely someone she likes as a person. The reason their relationship fizzled the first time was because of his moving. They promised to keep in touch, but that never happened. And now… Now this may be the last time she ever sees or hears from him.

When the last of it is tucked safely into his suitcase, Amy lets out a sigh and tacks on a hesitant smile.

They approach the door and he turns around after stepping over the threshold.

“I hope you find someone who’s amazing for you, Teddy”

He tilts his head. “Like you and Jake?”

“He has Sophia and she’s really great—they’re really great together.”

Teddy nods, turning to look down the hall, in the direction of Jake and Sophia's room. When he faces her again, he smiles, and if she’s not mistaken (or delusional) it’s encouraging. “No one can stand in the way of Jake and Amy and come out on top. Take it from me.”

“Well… time will tell!” She grins, then grimaces at how phony that was. “I mean, um, thanks.”

They linger for a beat too long until Teddy bids a goodbye and they participate in an awkward dance of a hug or a handshake. Short bursts of amusement huffs out from them both. Eventually, Amy laughs self-deprecatingly, shaking her head.

“Goodbye, Teddy.” She thrusts out her hand and gives him a firm shake, then inhales sharply as he tugs her into a hug.

“Bye, Amy,” he murmurs, his lips against her temple.

He pulls away quickly and trudges down the hall without a second glance back.

And now she’s alone.


	10. the pontiac bandit returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy’s straightening the items on the refrigerator when Jake stomps into the kitchenette with heavy feet.

“Ho ho ho!” he bellows. “Meee-rry Christmas!”

Rolling her eyes, she turns around. “Aren’t you Jew-AHH!” Her hands are thrown up and covering her mouth, and her heart is racing because holy crap on a stick, she had a nightmare that once began like this.

Jake widens his eyes from behind round-rimmed glasses, and underneath the white beard—is that a blob of butter?—Amy’s sure he’s gaping in offense. “You’re a jewah,” he throws back. The weight of his frown falls over his brown eyes, and with it the Santa hat slumps down his forehead. “Wait, what’s a jewah?”

Shifting her hands down to her chest over her heart, like she’s trying to soothe its rapid  _boomboom-boomboom-boomboom_ ’s, she squints at Jake. “Jewish, dummy. You’re Jewish. Why are you wearing that?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m Santa Claus. And I’m running a sting with Rosa.”

Amy’s heart eventually settles back to her healthy resting rate (54 BpM, but she’s not bragging). She can’t put her finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way Jake looks. She runs her gaze down his frame, ignoring his cocky pose and suggestive look. And then it hits her with an ungraceful snort. “You look like a paler and bushier version of my Uncle Alejandro.”

Jake yanks down the beard and grimaces. “Ugh, gross. Don’t compare this rockin’ piece of meat to your old relative.”

Walking back to her desk, she’s careful not to touch him as she lets out a laugh. “Jake, I saw you eat a whole box of sugar-powdered donuts yesterday.”

He follows her and takes the seat beside her desk. “And they were delicious. Your point?”

Shaking her head, she pulls her chair closer to her desk and passes him another glance. “You’re not going to your mother’s for Chanukah dressed like that, are you?”

“Are you kidding? She’d disown me. And that would be the worst thing because she makes the best—”

“Sufganiyot,” they chorus, and Jake’s face lights up as he points to her.

“Hey, you remembered it this time.”

She smiles at the proud expression on his face. “Kind of hard not to after last week when you practically screamed it into my ear through the phone. What was that about, anyway?”

A dirty grin smears across his lips. “I had a little too much to drink at this wine tasting with Sophia.”

“You’re supposed to spit it out.”

“I’m going to do the mature thing and ignore the jokes overflowing my mind right now and instead tell you that that’s just wasteful. Plus Sophia was there. I didn’t want her to see me being disgusting. I reserve that for the sixth date.”

“Where’s Rosa?" she asks, avoiding that line of conversation. "I thought you have that sting op?”

He waves her off with a lazy flick of his wrist. “That’s not until eleven.”

“It’s nine AM.”

“Yup! Christmas season means busy, busy for this jolly handsome man!” He drags the beard up and pats his knee, gesturing for her to take a seat on his lap. It’s charming that he’s in such a high festive mood that rivals a nine year old’s on Christmas morning. “Why don’t you come and sit on Santa’s lap? Whisper in my ear what you want for Christmas.”

Aaaand there goes the charm.

Amy feels the shudder rake her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “Ugh, gross. All I can see is Uncle Alejandro hitting on me.”

“Yep, regretted it immediately.” Jake yanks down the beard again, which disturbs the spectacles on his nose and it topples onto his lap.

Loud commotion from the holding cell draws Amy’s attention, and she frowns at the two Santas shoving each other in the small space. “Hey!” she bellows in her best authoritative voice as she marches up to them.

The officer standing guard quickly grabs for his keys when she flicks her wrist to the door of the cell. Two other male uniforms step in once it’s open and try to wrestle the Santas apart.

“Break it up!” she demands above the commotion.

Beside her, Jake’s holding out an arm protectively as the uniforms struggle to break them apart. “Hey! There’s plenty of Santa joy to spread, no need to be greedy.”

One of the Santas knocks off the other’s hat, revealing his bald, tattooed head. Bald Santa shoves his hand into his suit pocket, and Amy draws her weapon. “Freeze! Nobody move.”

Jake catches on and points steadily to Bald Santa. “Not a good idea, buddy. What do you have in there? Take it out slowly; no sudden movements.”

Bald Santa slowly removes his hand and uncovers a ballpoint pen. The uniform behind him grabs for it before cuffing him while the other uniform cuffs the other Santa to the metal bar just above the bench that runs along the circumference of the holding cell.

Amy’s heart is pounding, and she deepens her breathing as she clasps her gun safely back in its place, but the actions are all muscle memory; her mind’s a little scrambled from the hype.

Jake guides them out of the tiny room, waving away the group that gathered during the scuffle. “Move along, people. Nothing to see here.”

Before she can step back into the bullpen, he grabs her elbow gently, and she turns around.

“Hey, you okay?”

She nods, heart still racing. Two shots of adrenaline this morning and it’s not even ten yet.

“You sure?” Concern etches into his frown and does nothing to calm her rapid pulse. His hand slides down to her wrist where his fingers wrap loosely, and Amy doesn’t think he’s noticed he’s done it.

“Yes.” She hates how breathy it sounds. Her mind fights to sew a clever sentence together. “Just a little claustrophobic.” She forces a grin then. “Get it?”

Jake snorts, shaking his head. “Dork.” But his own smile flourishes across his face, igniting a natural glow to his features under the ugly fluorescent lighting, and encourages a more genuine smile of her own.

She relaxes with the comforting beginnings of their banter. “Oh, you’re just jealous that you didn’t think of it first.”

His hand slips from her wrist and his chin jerks forward, signalling for her to move. “It was amateurish.”

She whips her head around as they make their way back to their desks, throwing over her shoulder, “It was not. It was an awesome joke.”

A smatter of chuckles escape his lips just as she passes his desk. “Okay, it was pretty great.”

She beams at him as she sits back down onto her desk chair.

Jake plops into his and struggles to pull himself closer to his desk because of the cushion of his belly. “How do you think the Santas got arrested?”

Amy shrugs, absentmindedly scrolling through her email. “I don’t know. Probably drunk and disorderly. Harassment.”

“What, like pointing at some lady and yelling, ‘ _Ho ho ho_ ’?”

A bubble of a laugh tumbles from her throat, and when she looks over at him, he has his hands clasped behind his head, a glint of pride in his steady gaze.

They spend the next hour and a half volleying Santa puns back and forth until Rosa arrives and drags Jake off to their sting operation.


	11. stakeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy paces in the courtyard, practicing her speech to Terry. “ _I didn’t like the book because—_ No, too direct. _I think it bothered—_ ”

“Santiago!”

She drops her hands and whips her head around to see Jake with his head hovering out of the door. There’s an urgency in his voice layered over something she can’t place, but it puts her on high alert. “Peralta, what is it?”

“We’re going door duty.”

She deflates a little, but starts toward the door anyway, adjusting her blazer as he pushes the door open wider. He seems eager, which draws suspicion from her because he hates door duty. “Okay,” she says slowly, “for what case?”

“Bisco, let’s go!” He makes a sweeping gesture.

Her steps falter and impatience flourishes across Jake’s pinched face. “Isn’t Boyle your case partner?”

“Not anymore. Let’s _go_!” He actually stomps his foot this time, but Amy’s not going to give in.

She frowns and crosses her arms. “Jake.”

He sighs loudly, tilting his head back to glare at the sky. When he drops his head back down again, a sulky expression weaves into his features. “We’re not friends anymore, okay? He’s annoying and weird and so uptight!”

“You don’t mean that.”

Jake sighs again, but it’s more genuine to how he’s really feeling, and he steps out into courtyard and drops down onto the chair in the middle of the enclosure, rubbing his eye.

It’s the first time Amy’s noticed how exhausted he looks. Working eight straight days in a place surprisingly more filthy than his own apartment would do that to a detective less than Jake Peralta.

(Then again, no one’s dumb enough to work an eight-day stakeout.)

She clucks sympathetically and drags the other chair so she can sit across from him.

As he slides down in his chair, he tips his head back to rest against the back of it. His adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. “We’re so different.”

“So are we.” A light breeze washes into the enclosure, and Amy wrinkles her nose at the slightly strange smell that comes from Jake. It’s not new to her having grown up with several brothers, and it’s not the worst thing she’s smelled. “We’ve done so many stakeouts together and we’re fine.”

Jake looks at her then with a half smile, tilting his head down enough to watch her with soft eyes that do wonderfully warm things to her.

In a moment of weakness, Amy allows herself to cherish this look, something she had chosen to ignore before because it wasn’t right or she didn’t want it. But lately, she’s been feeling a little vulnerable and self-conscious; she needs to draw strength from something both comforting and empowering.

“... Yeah.” His gaze drops and his half smile disappears into a troubled frown.

Clearing her throat, she looks away. “You guys are like brothers. And trust me; brothers fight, but at the end of the day, they’re always there for each other.”

She allows him a long moment to process her words, and when he does, he smiles at her, and she smiles back. “You’re right. Thanks.” He rises and starts to make his way back inside.

“Word of advice?”

He spins on his heel and raises his brows.

“Take a proper shower, Peralta.” She scrunches her nose. “You stink.”

He leaves her with a boisterous laugh and a, “It’s called hard work, slacker. Try it sometime!”

* * *

The next morning, Amy steps into the break room for some coffee when she gasps at what she sees: Jake flipping through a magazine, seemingly unperturbed that he has a disgusting black eye. “Oh my god, what happened?”

His head lifts up and back until she can see up his nostrils and the pupil of his almost swollen shut left eyelid. “It’s nothing. You should see the other guy.” He puffs up his chest with a grin that pushes his eye closed completely.

“You beat up Boyle!?”

“What?" he exclaims in a way that lets her know things are well between the two best friends. "No, Bisco punched me!”

She gestures to her own eye and nods in his direction. “You should seriously get someone to get a look at that. Or at least clean it up.”

He waves a hand nonchalantly and sits back. “It’s fine.”

“I think it’s oozing something yellow.” She grimaces.

“That just means it’s healing.”

“Jake!”

“I tried to ice it last night but it was really cold, okay!?” He pouts.

Sighing, Amy tells him to hold on before rushing out to the kitchenette for the bag of frozen peas that’s been in there for years, and on her way back to the break room, stops by her desk to pull out the first-aid kit she keeps in her drawer.

(Scout motto: Be prepared.)

(She wasn’t a scout, but it’s a good motto to have nonetheless.)

Jake’s sitting with his arms crossed, but he’s turned in his seat and the chair beside him is pulled out.

She asks about his arrest yesterday as she cleans up his wound. He complains loudly in between winces, but she just rolls her eyes and reprimands him for not taking care of his eye earlier. He tells her that what she said about Boyle being his brother is right. That he never really had a close guy friend in his life growing up, and Boyle may be different and strange, but it doesn’t mean that Jake doesn’t care about him or love him “bromance-stylez.” When he jerks away at the application of the antiseptic, she grabs his neck and hauls him back, but lightens the cotton ball around the area and lightly blows on it to soothe the sting.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asks quietly just as she finishes.

She glances at his good eye before checking her work. “Sure.”

“Does this badass look turn you on?”

Shaking head, she laughs through a smile and tells him, “You’re an idiot.” She packs up her kit and gathers the trash and moves to stand to properly dispose them, when his warm hand clasps around her wrist. She looks down at the hand first before dragging her eyes up to his.

“Thank you.”

Tilting her head, the smile that graces her lips feels as sincere as his words. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  Just sayin'


	12. beach house

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really tough to write, mainly because I'm having a huge writer's block and not feeling anything I'm writing these days.
> 
> Anyway, here's some girl time.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

“Amy?"

Something nudges her shoulder and Amy moans from her place against the sink opposite the toilet. Cracking an eye open, she frowns at the bristle end of a broom-stick being jabbed unceremoniously at her.

“Aye-mee…” Gina sings. “You alive in there?”

“Stop it.” Amy groans drowsily, her scratchy throat crunching her words into growly sounds.

“I brought you some Tylenol. But ’cha have to come get it because I don’t want to smell that.”

She stares miserably at the toilet and attempts a swallow in her dry mouth. “I flushed it down already.”

“I don’t think I’m being unreasonable here. Even a hint of puke makes me nauseous.”

Amy deepens her frown and crawls across the bathroom floor to the door, then head-butts the edge and abruptly falls back in a pained whimper. “Ow, ow, ow.”

Gina tuts sympathetically and kneels in front of Amy after pulling the door open completely. “There, there,” she hushes, dropping two tablets into Amy’s open palm and pushing a glass of water in her other. “Drugs make everything better.”

* * *

“There we go,.” Gina huffs, dropping Amy to the couch.

Crawling to the cornered section, Amy flops onto her back and blinks heavy eyelids. Muffled chatter from above is enough to soothe her to sleep, but she holds onto her consciousness a little longer.

From behind the bar, Rosa makes a strangled noise, and Amy tilts her head down enough to see that she’s staring down at her phone with an unfamiliar but nonetheless pretty smile on her face.

If Amy has to guess, she’d say it’s Marcus.

Marcus who makes her feel wanted. Marcus who holds her hand when she’s upset. Marcus who kisses her like she’s needed.

Envy is a match that sets her alcohol soaked veins on fire.

Amy heaves a sigh and frowns at Gina. “I miss Teddy.”

“Woah-oh, I was not prepared for this.”

“Do you think he’s missing me?” She lazily rolls her eyes across the ceiling. “Where’s my phone?”

“Don’t go there, my little sasquatch. Six-drink-Amy will _totally_ bum him out and then you’ll definitely be alone, for _ever,_ ” Gina whispers.

“You don’t think I’ll find anyone else?”

“Oh, Amy.” Gina pets Amy’s hair with a single, index finger. “Sweet, naïve Amy.”

“I won’t remember this tomorrow.” Amy tacks on a little pathetic whine with the hopes of appealing to her sympathetic side.

Gina tilts her head, crinkling her nose as she considers. “You have the hots for dear Jacob.”

“What?” Amy squeaks, the heaviness in her chest thumping wild and frantic.

“Oh please,” Rosa pipes up, shooting them a dark look over her phone. “The puppy eyes you give him when you think no one’s looking makes me gag.”

_She makes_ puppy _eyes?_ “Am I that obvious?” she asks, slinking further down in her seat.

Gina smiles and giddily informs her, “The rookies are taking bets on when you guys are getting together.”

“That’s… disturbing.” Amy grimaces. “He’s with Sophia, and I don’t understand how this has anything to do with my being alone.”

Rosa sighs, rounding the bar and approaching them, “Trust me. It has everything to do with you being alone.” She takes a seat opposite Amy and kicks her feet up onto the coffee table.

“You’re never going to find a relationship that will work as long as you’re still hung up on Jake,” Gina explains.

“How do I get over him?”

“Tell him,” Gina suggests at the same time Rosa offers, “Get under someone else.”

“Forget mine.” Gina shakes her head, grinning at Rosa. “Do that one.”

Ignoring the second one, Amy rebukes Gina’s idea. “I’m not going to tell him. He’s happy with Sophia.”

Gina snorts, and casts a casual glance at her phone when it beeps. “He told you how he felt when you were with Teddy.”

“He had a legitimate reason and didn’t do it with the intention of being with me,” Amy argues back. “I’m not going to mess with his head. It’s only going to confuse him and make him feel guilty, and people are going to get hurt.” She can feel a headache coming on right now.

Rosa sniffs. “Your problem is that you’re dating cops.”

A frown weighs heavily on Amy’s face. The only guys she has time to meet are cops because most of her time is spent working. “There aren’t many other chances I get to have to meet guys that aren’t.”

“What about at those lame classes you take? Date someone from those.”

“Oh no.” Amy cringes. “There aren’t many options. Surprisingly, not many people attend these sessions.”

“Can’t see why,” Gina comments, sarcasm dripping from her words, just as Rosa rolls her eyes.

“Look, it’s ultimately up to you,” Rosa says, her hand coming out as if to grip her leg to comfort her. In the end, she pushes at Amy's thigh and retreats her hand. “Do you like Jake?”

Amy opens her mouth. Does she like Jake? She told him back at the cabin that she liked him. As in past tense. But it’s more than that. What she feels for Jake is deeper than like and still very present.

Amy thinks Rosa’s question runs deeper than her words, too. Does she like Jake enough to change her current relationship with him—and his relationship with Sophia? Does she like Jake enough to want what’s best for him even if it’s not her? He’s happy, she can see that, and she has to get over him to be happy for him… and maybe some day even just be happy. For herself.

“Are you going to throw up again?” Gina mutters.

Amy blinks, glancing over at Gina who shifts her gaze from her phone to Amy and back, and then takes a look at Rosa, whose attention Amy has completely lost to the pinging phone in Rosa’s hand. “No. Why?”

“You haven’t said anything for a while.”

Shuffling further into the couch, Amy murmurs something about a headache and closes her eyes.

If there’s one thing about Amy, it’s that she always does the right thing whether she likes it or not. But for the first time, she’s questioning whether the right thing is the best thing.


	13. payback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back to reread and rewrite each chapter to make it flow more and fit into how the season ended (and was it the most wonderful thing you’ve ever seen in your entire existence or what?). Also found some typos and tense mistakes that I fixed up.
> 
> For [hoperise](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hoperise/profile).
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy pulls up to Jake’s apartment, frowning at the man curled up on the sidewalk. He's wearing a familiar leather jacket and mess of hair at the top of his bent head.

Rolling down the window, she calls out a little hesitantly, “Jake?”

He lifts his head, looking upset and confused. Then he spots her and reaches for his work bag by his feet before clumsily climbing into the passenger side.

Turning in her seat, she regards him. His face is grim; the outer corners of his eyes downturned under the weight of his eyebrows. “Are you crying?”

“No, still eyeball sweat,” he utters.

“I don’t know what that means. Where’s your car?”

“I sold it this morning.”

She crinkles a brow. “Did you arrange the place and time?”

“Yeah.”

Amy groans and then glowers over at Jake. “Why didn’t you drive to work and then have the guy pick it up there?” She could have slept in this morning.

His mouth opens and for a moment nothing comes out. Then his eyebrows raise and he claims smugly, “So you could have more Jake-time. You’re welcome!”

_She could have slept in this morning._

He reaches over and turns on the seat warmer, and she grumbles as she pulls out from the curb and starts the drive to the precinct.

“Aren’t you in a mood,” he notes teasingly, apparently done mourning the loss of his car. “How ’bout a pick-me-up? Let’s stop by a coffee shop.”

“No. You are not allowed any food or beverages in my car. Not after last time.” She pats her dashboard.

“C’mon,” he whines as they approach an intersection about a block away from the 99th. “I really need some coffee.”

_She_ needs more coffee if she has to deal with his whining for the rest of the day, cute or not. “Then wait ’til we get to the precinct.”

“I can’t wait. Look, there’s a parking spot!” His hand shoots out and pulls at her hand, ruining her perfect nine and three driving position. “Signal, signal!”

“Jake, oh my god!” Amy immediately breaks and glances through the rearview mirror for any cars directly behind them, tightening her hands on the wheel the way she wants to clutch at her heart that’s beating erratically.

* * *

Amy places down Jake’s mug, careful of the stack of files littered across the table in the records room, before taking a seat opposite him, and sips from her own mug.

Captain Holt assigned them here to sort out these files that have been piling up over the last few months. As Union Rep, Amy is trying to organise a type of standardised system throughout the precincts in Brooklyn. It’s difficult getting anything done with bureaucracy.

“Thanks.” Jake takes a long drink and swallows before making a loud satisfied sound. “By the way, I need you to drive me to and from work until I save up enough money to get another car.”

“Why me?”

“Because Boyle’s car always smells like dog, my place is out of Rosa’s way and Gina comes in, like, an hour before I need to.”

“Fine.” Amy settles back into her chair. “Why’d you sell it, anyway? It was there for your first arrest.”

“I needed the money.”

“Don’t you have about a thousand dollars in your bank account?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have enough to payback Terry.”

She laughs. “I read your email. Rosa told me it was supposed to be a secret.”

Jake smiles mockingly, then asks, _oh so casually_ , “So how was your case with Holt?”

Amy winces. “Horrible. I gave him diarrhoea.”

“You decided to poison him for not  falling for your sexy siren calls into loving you, did ya?” He grins.

“It wasn’t on purpose. We were bonding on our stakeout and decided to have some street meat.”

“So this is why he’s punishing you,” he comments, sweeping his arm to gesture to the files scattered across the table.

Maybe. But they’ll laugh about it years later. And the Captain will tell her how proud of her he is while she’s visiting his home for their weekly brunch. Shaking her head, she jerks her chin in his direction. “Why is he punishing you, then?”

“Maybe because he's intimidated by how brilliant I am.”

“Or maybe because you told the whole precinct about the pregnancy. Terry must’ve been _so_ mad at you.”

“He was.” Jake grimaces, and all traces of teasing on his face melts into worry with one bite of his bottom lip.

She frowns. “Jake, what’s wrong?”

“Did you know that a godfather has to take care of the kid when the parents die?”

Both reach out and knock on the wood of the desk.

“ _Nothing_ is going to happen to Terry or Sharon.”

“I know.” His face pinches and he shakes his head, like the very idea of either getting hurt is absurd. “I _know_.”

Jake has never been one to talk about his feelings, and she’s learned over the years to read between the jokes—or in this case, the uncharacteristically solemn silence. “The twins love you,” she begins quietly, reassuringly.

Jake looks up from playing with the rim of his mug. “That’s because I’m cool Uncle Jake. I don’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby. I can’t even take care of myself!”

_Well, there’s no arguing that._ “I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself here. The baby doesn’t even have a face yet.”

He looks at her with something akin to horror, and she quickly back pedals because now is not the time for a lesson on the fertilisation process.

“No one’s asking you to raise a baby.”

“I know that. But I want one of my own some day. I want a family,” he confesses a little hesitantly, as if he doesn’t think he’s not allowed to admit it; to want it. “What if I screw them up like my dad did?”

Amy leans forward in her seat, staring at him imploringly. “Jake, you’re not screwed up and you are definitely not your father.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re sitting here worrying about how to take care of your non-existent child. Because you care about and would do anything for the people around you. What your father did to you was horrible, but you turned outjust fine. You’re a good person and that’s all that matters in the end.”

The look he gives her, like a puppy trapped at the top of a staircase; hopeful and pleading, tugs on her heartstrings. “Really?”

“Yes. I really think you’re going to be a good father.”

He presents her with a small smile. “Thanks. You too.”

Amy gives him a funny look.

He waves a hand. "You know what I mean; you’re gonna be a good mom."

“You think so? You don’t think I’ll be one of those strict mothers whose own children resent her?”

“Well, not all the time. But I mean, you gotta fund a husband who balances you out, ya know?”

Amy’s heart races. Oh god. Is it wrong that she thought of him? “Wh-what do you mean?”

Jake takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs. “Someone fun who reminds you that it’s not all about schedules and potty training and”—he adopts a stern expression and jabs a finger at her—“‘ _eat your brussel sprouts, Axel!_ ’” he exclaims in a strict, high-pitched voice that she guesses is supposed to sound like her.

“I would not name my child Axel,” she rebukes to distract herself from imagining Jake sitting right next to a child, staring down at a bowl of said brussel sprouts with identical grimaces.

"Why not? It’s an awesome name that works for both boy or girl.”

"You don’t get a say in naming my child.” She grabs the nearest pile of reports and begins sorting through them.

“Oh, I beg to differ. I get equal say.”

Her eyes widen. “You do not!”

“Do too. I’m gonna be the one helping you bring a baby into the world.”

Gripping the folders, she narrows her eyes at him. “Shut up.”

“What? I’m just saying; there’s no way you’re going to be on maternity leave before you pop. And the day you go into labour is the day we’ll get stuck in the precinct elevator because the power’s out,” he babbles, and realisation dawns on her that he's _not_ talking about—nevermind. “I save the day and deliver the baby with coaching from the 911 lady. I'll be grossed out, but I’ll still do an amazing job. You’ll be so grateful you let me name him or her.”

Closing her eyes, Amy heaves a breath. _God help me_.


	14. defence rests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to the people who commented on the last chapter. They were extremely helpful and confidence boosting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“So how was your day?” Amy asks Rosa, who’s sitting adjacent to her in the booth.

“Spent it going through my notes for the Giggle Pig trial and helping the Captain.”

“Really?” Curiosity spikes up her spine and she sits up straighter, placing her hands atop the other on the table. “With what?”

“Deputy Wuntch.” Rosa leans forward and Amy slowly inches closer in interest. “She apparently used Holt to get promoted.”

“Oh no. He must be furious.” She gasps at the thought of what that could entail. “Maybe I get to use my conflict resolution skills to smooth out the tension bet—”

“No,” Rosa interrupts firmly, and Amy deflates.

“Fine. But I can tell you that I have a one hundred percent success rate.”

From the other side of Shaw’s, Amy can hear Boyle exclaiming Jake’s name and perches her chin onto her shoulder to look. Jake and the Captain and Sergeant take a seat at one end of the bar.  She hasn’t seen Jake since this morning. What’s he been been up to?

Boyle hugs him enthusiastically, but Jake barely pats him on the back in return.  He looks troubled.  _Case go bad?_

“Stop it,” Rosa mutters.

Amy jerks and whips her head around. “What?”

“You’re yearning. I thought you wanted to get over him.”

“I did—I mean, I do. I am.”

“Really,” she says in a disbelieving tone, crossing her arms on the edge of the table. “How’s that going?”

“Good. Fine. Kylie’s been setting me up on a few dates. I don’t know where she finds these guys, but none have worked out well enough for a second date.”

“Is that because you keep comparing them to Jake?”

She stiffens. “No!” _Yes._ “Some of these guys are scary weird. There was one guy who kept asking if he could sniff my hair because the smell reminded him of his dead mother.”

Rosa’s left eyebrow jumps, but that’s about all the reaction given.“The point is to get over Jake, not look for Prince Charming. Just pick one and sleep with him.”

“You keep suggesting that, but it is not going to happen. That’s not me. And why can’t I do both: find someone who is romantically compatible and doesn’t talk about his cat’s sensitive bowels during dinner?”

“Dude, until you get Jake out of your system, you’re never going to give someone else a chance.”

Amy chews her bottom lip, then sighs. “It’s hard. But I’ve managed to shift my attention onto other things. I have a healthy case load and preparations for Union Rep meetings—which takes a lot of time because there are so many things to improve—and one of my brothers is visiting with his wife and kid so we’re having a little family get together. Does your Abuela give you Vicks VapoRub? I have about three in my bathroom cabinet.”

Rosa nods and begins to speak when Boyle takes a seat with three bottles of beer in his hands.

“A thank you round of drinks,” he proclaims, and Amy smiles in thanks as she reaches for the bottle he hands to her. “And toast to Amy.”

* * *

Amy’s phone buzzes in her jeans pocket and she wiggles around in the booth to get it out, accidentally nudging her foot against something in the process.

“Watch it,” Gina warns.

“Sorry.”

It’s a text from Jake.

**    Amy santiago i cu **

She frowns and cranes her neck to see above heads for Jake at the bar. Her phone buzzes in her hand.

**    Hehe. Try agan **

Buzz.

**    I’m ninja. Ninja detective **

“Amy, I said watch it!” Gina complains.

Amy rears her head back. “I didn’t touch you, I didn’t even move.”

Gina’s face darkens and her body jerks before a loud, “Ow!” from under their table sounds.

The four glance under the table. Jake’s huddled there with his phone under his chin illuminating his moue.

Rosa growls. “Jake, get out from under there.”

“But I’m ninja,” he grumbles and crawls out like a deer first learning how to walk.

Boyle shifts further into the booth and pats the new space. “Jake, come sit here.”

Jake’s movements are sloppy and his eyes are unfocused as he grins at their group. “Hiii.”

Amy wraps her fingers around her empty bottle and leans forward a little. His eyes settle on hers and his grin widens impossibly. He looks goofy and drunk and adorable. “What happened to never drinking again?” she asks, remembering too well how he handled his last hangover.

His smile drops and it’s like its connected to her heartstrings in some kind of emotional pulley system because her chest hurts. “Sophia dumped me.”

“Really?” she asks just a little too contently, and Gina snorts. Amy clears her throat and repeats it in a more subdued tone.

(She is a horrible person.)

“When I die tragically,” Jake begins, lifting a finger to jab the air. “Not from the six bullets I would have taken at one time during my outstanding career, but from the broken heart I never recovered from all those years ago… My gravestone will say: _Jacob Peralta. Awesome lonely cop_.”

“No, Jakey, don’t say that,” Boyle says. “You have your friends. Your best pal Charles! We could move in and grow old together. We’d cook stew every night and invite the whole neighbourhood, and be known as the Stew Studs.”

“Until you realise it’s too much work and break up with me. We’re not Bert and Ernie; we couldn’t even spend eight days together.”

Gina chuckles, eyes trained on her phone. “Son, Bert and Ernie were gay puppets.”

Jake stares at her with a blank expression on his face.

Shaking her head, Amy states softly, “Jake, these things take time.”

He shrugs, grabbing the Happy Hour brochure in the middle of the table and starts fiddling with it. “Am I too much work?”

“Yes,” Rosa says. Her face softens minutely and the frown on her face is nothing but concerned. “But you’re worth working on. Idiot.”

He glances up with a hesitant smile.

“Jake, you’re a _mess_ ,” Gina says. “It’s your thing. _Embrace_ it.”

Amy makes a disagreeing noise as Rosa frowns and Boyle shakes his head.

* * *

When Jake starts contemplating taking his shirt off because he feels a little dizzy, they agree that it’s time for him to go home.

Boyle immediately volunteers, but Jake declares loudly that he wants Amy to drive him home because he needs to talk to her.

Which, of course, put her on edge.

Rosa helps her bring Jake into the car and Boyle buckles his seat belt as Amy rounds to the driver’s side. She digs around in the back where she keeps a spare water bottle and hands it to him. “Drink this.”

After she pulls out onto the road, she expects him to begin talking, but he remains quiet. Part of her is anxious to know exactly what he’s going to say, but the other part of her is relieved because she just knows it’s about Sophia. Still, she doesn’t prod him about it, and they’re silent on the way back to his apartment.

She spares him glances throughout the drive for any sign that he might want to throw up. When she stops at a red light and asks about it, he shakes his head, but does mutter himself about how long it would take his puke to freeze in the snow.  Not long after, she pulls up to the curb in front of his building, she shuts her engine off and turns to him.  His eyes are closed, but she knows he’s awake; he’s biting his bottom lip. A clear sign of nervousness.

She’s about to poke his arm when he murmurs, “How did you get over Teddy?”

Amy twists her lips. “Well… Mostly I cried into a packet of Mallomars. Then I packed up the things he left at my apartment and dropped it off at the 82nd.”

He nods, long and slow. Then he opens his eyes and turns to look at her. “Thanks.”

Amy smiles. “Of course. Do you want me to walk you up?”

“Nah, I’ll be fffff-ine.” He heaves a little and pulls a face, and she cowers back. “Sorry, totally thought I was gonna burp.”

Placing a hand to her chest, she shakes her head. “God, you scared me. I thought you were going to throw up all over my car.”

“Maybe next time.” He smiles.

She rolls her eyes in return. “See you tomorrow.”

He unbuckles himself and opens the door. “Bye.”

“Hey,” she calls just before he slams it. He ducks his head back in. “Don’t forget raw egg yolks tomorrow morning.”

He whines lowly.


	15. windbreaker city

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“Ready?” Amy asks, watching Jake chew on his lip and survey the pristine street around them from the safety of her car. He was clutching his box full of Sophia’s things when she picked him up this morning, but it wasn’t until lunch as they headed to Sal’s Pizza that he asked if she could drive him to Sophia’s law firm first.

“No. Yes. N—es. What if I run into her?”

She eyes the box in his lap and spots a bottle of multi-surface cleaner that wasn’t there this morning, and the thought of Jake going out of his way to put that in there for whatever reason makes something in her chest tighten. Tearing her gaze up to his, she lifts her eyebrows. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t want to watch her walk away again. It really hurt the first time.”

Amy doesn’t know what to say. Seeing the usually light-hearted man Jake is, hurting (over another woman)… Nothing unnerves her more than the rush of emotions bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She’s about to lift a hand to place it on the one clutching the corner of the box, when he exhales sharply and literally shakes himself out of his melancholy.

“Oh well. I guess I should go.” He pats the side of the box and its contents rustle.

“Yeah,” she husks.

“I’ll only be a few.” Jake smiles a closed-mouth smile. “Wait up.”

Amy nods, watching him take a breath before climbing out of the car. He walks briskly across the street to Sophia’s building. He turns and lifts a finger, signalling to her he’d be a minute, before disappearing inside the glass doors.

Fiddling with the radio until she settles on a station playing Taylor Swift, she settles back into her seat. When she looks up, she spots Sophia and quickly slumps in her seat, accidentally hitting the horn in the process, and she winces.

Here’s the thing: Jake Peralta is chaos. He’s confusion and mayhem. Amy doesn’t think she’s ever felt so uncertain about anything or anyone. She’s felt an overwhelming amount of it since the work trip to the B&B. Her break up with Teddy felt more potent than she thought she would have felt and she didn’t know why. It wasn’t until after waking up hung-over after her drunken vacation at Boyle’s ex-wife’s beach house that she sat herself down and muddled through it.

She wasn’t only mourning her relationship with Teddy, but her opportunity with Jake as well.  She wasn’t ready to admit it then, but these feelings do run deeper that just a simple crush. What she feels for Jake isn’t something that happened explosively or obviously, but conjured quietly and gradually through every silly bet and every ridiculous argument. It crept up on her and grew, feeding off on every interaction with him; stakeouts, late nights, work functions and the smatter of social gatherings.

The passenger door opens, shocking Amy out of her thoughts, and she turns to see Jake falling into the seat, looking a little defeated.

* * *

“Jake?” Amy turns on the stool on which they’re sitting at the high table that runs along the windows of the newly renovated Sal’s Pizza place. Beside her, Jake’s staring down at the pizza between them with his forearms resting on the table. “You’ve barely touched your half.”

He shrugs. “Not hungry.”

Wiping her fingers on the paper napkin, concern weighs on her brows. “Things will work out. It’ll get better.”

“How? This hurts more than Jenny Gildenhorn. Love sucks.”

No matter what she feels about Jake, she’s his friend first. Friends console each other when they’re hurting. So that’s why Amy leans forward and wraps her arms around him in a gawky hug. He stiffens a little under her, and she pats his shoulder before pulling away.

He turns to her with a small, confused smile. “What was that?”

“It’s called a hug, Peralta.”

He rolls his eyes. “I _know_. I meant, what was that for?”

She clears her throat. “You just look like you needed it.”

He stares at her with a guarded expression on his face. “You know what I just figured out?”

“... What’s that?”

“Both times I opened myself up to a woman and it wasn’t the best idea. First, it was bad timing, then it was ‘incompatible lives’,” he says, slightly mockingly. “I probably shouldn’t have accidentally told her I loved her. Four times.”

She swallows against the sudden tightness in her throat. “You told her you love her?”

“I don’t think I really do. But I was getting there, you know?”

She turns back around to face the window and blinks. Amy didn’t know it was that serious.

“Seeing her again today was hard, and it was even harding giving her all her things back because it seemed so final.”

She turns her head and Jake’s looking at her with the corner of his mouth tilted up. His warm eyes are watching her with an expression of which she’s unsure and it both scares and pains her.

“I was hoping for closure or something,” he finally says.

_Closure_. That’s exactly what she felt after dropping off Teddy’s things. A cleansing of a life that didn't work out, of a future that wasn't meant to be.

But when there aren’t tangible reminders to give back, closure is a lot more difficult.

She and Jake never got to that point in their relationship where they could hand each other their things and be on their way. They don’t have the luxury of ending that side of their relationship and begin the process of forgetting about the other and never see each other again.

Amy licks her lips, dropping her gaze to her lap where her hands are restlessly wringing together.

She hates to be second-rate or second choice, and that’s who she is compared to Sophia Perez. Jake got over Amy because what he feels for Sophia is more than what he felt for her. Amy doesn’t want to hang on to a life that she can never have, pining for someone who’s moved on to someone better.

If she wants to get over Jake, she needs closure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK about this. I might come back and re-write it more clearly.


	16. the wednesday incident

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy’s Volkswagen eats up the Brooklyn road as she takes Jake across town.

“Thanks for taking me to pick up my new car.”

She casts a quick look over at Jake in the passenger seat. His elbow is braced on the door seal with his head in his hand, facing in her direction, and there is a pair of dark shades over his eyes. She smiles. “Sure, no problem.”

She’s gotten used to being his chauffeur and spending time together over the past few months. They’ve been working on separate cases more and more since he came back so it's nice to spend the little time with him before and after shift.  For the past week, she’s also been working on her speech to him about—well, them. Rosa was on to something when she mentioned how Amy’s tactics haven’t been working out.  She’s been unsure about where she and Jake stand outside their professional environment, and she’s been going back and forth on how she feels for him for months now. It’s frustrating and confusing, and she doesn’t like it.  Jake’s moved on because he was open and told her how he felt, whereas Amy hasn’t really resolved her side of things. It’s time for her chance at closure.

“Listen, while I have you, we need to talk about something.”

“Could we talk while you buy me some nuts? I’m feelin’ snack-y.”

“If you’re going to snack on nuts, consider almonds; they’re healthier and they taste better.” Of course, almonds aren’t nuts, but Jake doesn’t need to know that. “Why don’t we stop by Molly’s instead? After we get the car.”

“Muffins!” he exclaims happily and she looks over in time to see him fist pump.

She laughs quietly to herself.

* * *

Amy cradles her cup of coffee in both hands as she leans both forearms on the edge of the table at Molly’s. It’s owned by a wonderfully kind lady named Rachel, who took over her mother’s business when she passed away a few years ago.

The store does well enough to go up against the rising number of Starbucks in the city, but the atmosphere is peaceful enough to have a quiet conversation without needing to speak over the hustle and bustle of patrons coming and going.

Across from her, Jake’s mirroring her position, and his gaze is trained playfully on hers. “So you said you wanted to talk. Better make this quick, I have to go into the precinct.”

She tilts her head to the side and frowns. “You don’t even work today.”

“I need to talk to Holt and figure out what’s upset him.”

“ _You_ did.”

“Did not! And I will prove it with my amazing detective skills.”

“All you’re going to prove is that your horseplay finally broke through the Captain’s threshold for patience.”

Jake rears his head back as a scandalous expression shutters onto his face. “ _Horseplay_? Don’t be so crude, Amy.”

It’s her turn to be scandalised and she drops her jaw in offence, and he laughs. “Shut up.”

He does, but the smile on his face remains. Shaking his head, he takes a sip from his cup before shifting the subject back to the reason why they’re here. “So what did you want to talk about?”

Clearing her throat, she suddenly finds herself unprepared and anxious. “Well, I’ve been thinking lately that…” _Darn, she can’t remember her speech._ “Remember when you said that you got closure with Sophia?”

“Yeah. I took your advice on packing up her things and giving it back to her.”

“Yes. Right. Well, I think, in regard to us, that it was never really—”

“Ah, sorry,” he interrupts, leaning to the side as his hand reaches into his jacket pocket and produces his phone. “It’s my dad.”

Thrown by the new information, Amy pauses with her cup in mid-air. “You’re talking to your dad?”

“Yeah, we started texting recently,” he says, not looking up from tapping on his phone. When he’s done, he looks up at her with a grin. “He’s so cool.”

She holds her tongue, knowing it’s not her place to broach the sensitive subject and not wanting to kill his buzz. He seems genuinely happy that his father’s finally making contact. And who knows, maybe the older Peralta is finally making time to spend with his son.

Jake glances down at his phone again, as if eagerly waiting for a reply back from Father of the Year. “Dude, we gotta get to the precinct or you’ll be late. Don’t want to soil your almost perfect attendance.”

“Crap,” Amy mutters. They rise and make their way to the door, and she frowns as she processes the last thing he said, hitting his arm with the back of her hand. “What do you mean almost perfect attendance?”

“That time you were seven minutes late because you were at the bank?”

* * *

“This guy _parties_!” Jake yells, and Amy smiles.

“Oh, Amy,” Boyle calls as he treks from his desk to hers, holding a manila file. “Where did you put that dollar Marvin gave you?”

She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “I cataloged it into the evidence room.”

“I checked earlier, but couldn’t find it.”

They make their way to the evidence room and she digs it out for him. She pulls out the box in which it’s archived and props it on the table.

“Do you think it’d be weird if I went to Marvin’s funeral?” Boyle asks as he settles down at the table.

Amy pulls a face and nods as she organises the rest of the evidence in the box. “Definitely.”

“Hm, thought so.” He perks up and his hands lift and wave about in restless excitement. “Oh! What if I send them flowers? And on the card, I could write something like—”

The door opens then, interrupting Boyle from finishing, and Jake pokes his head in. “Amy!”

She grabs onto the life support Jake’s unknowingly given her and hastily replies, “Yes?”

“Look what I got!” He turns the canvas around and Amy takes in the portrait of a rock with a slight laugh.

“I saw.”

“It's an original Raymond Holt. You jealous?”

She tilts her head, lifting a shoulder. “Maybe. Can I hold it?”

“Just for a moment.” Jake offers it out to her, and she’s barely touched it before he pulls it back to himself. “Okay, that’s enough.”

“Guys, could you”—Boyle makes an impatient hand gesture—“take this somewhere else? I’m a little busy.”

“Sorry,” they chorus and she eagerly pushes Jake out of the room.

“Watch the hands,” he complains. “I don’t want this painting ruined before I get to mount it in my apartment.”

“Okay, don’t rub it in.”

She spins around to return back to the bullpen, but a hand to her shoulder stops her.

“Hey, wait,” he says, and his voice is serious enough to give her pause. “You said you wanted to talk yesterday and we never got to finish.”

_Right_. The talk. Amy nods and clasps her hands together in front of her. Before she can start, a pair of uniforms walk by and she gestures to the room beside Interrogation Room Three. “I think we need to clear the air,” she begins as Jake settles himself on the edge of the table pushed against the wall adjacent to the one-way mirror. “Put it out in the open.”

He props up the painting beside him and crosses his arms, giving her his undivided attention. “And what’s that?”

She heaves a breath, crossing her own arms, and stands straighter to keep from fidgeting. “About… you and me—us.” She sounded much more eloquent in her script. “Our stuff.”

Jake nods. “It’s in the past, right? We’re just friends, and I’m so glad the awkwardness is gone.”

Amy pulls up the corners of her mouth. “Yes, exactly. I mean, it was really tiring going back and forth wondering where the other person was emotionally. That’s why I think it’s important to state that we’ve put it in the past.”

“The past,” he agrees. “As in history.”

They smile at each other, and Amy nods, satisfied with the conversation.

He reaches for the painting again. “So I’m thinking of setting this as my screensaver on my work computer.”

She can always count on Jake to make things easy and unknowingly calm her down. “Personalised background images aren’t allowed on our work desktops.”

He pouts. “I thought it was just personalised _butt_ -ground images that aren’t allowed.”

Amy cringes, but can’t stop the amused noise from escaping her throat.

A few months back Jake was presenting a case in the meeting room and the background of his slides was a picture of a butt because he wanted to “symbolise [his] cracking the case.”  The Captain did not find it funny in the slightest, and  Jake didn’t say whose it was, but she has a pretty good idea.

(Not that she checks out Jake’s butt.)


	17. boyle-linetti wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

At her table, Amy reaches for her glass of water and catches the older couple sitting across from her as she takes a quick sip. The older gentlemen is adjusting his hearing-aid and speaking loudly to the brunette woman beside him with grey streaks in her neatly tied up hair. To Amy’s left and a chair over sits a woman with thick spectacles slowly eating soup with a shaky hand. Amy already knows to avoid catching the eye of the man sitting beside Mr. Hearing-Aid; he won’t stop grinning at her, and it wouldn’t be creepy except his dentures have been soaking in his water glass all night.

She suspects Gina had total control over the seating arrangements and has no doubt the woman took advantage of the small amount of power she had over Amy. She feels like a doll—dressed in clothes Gina provided and seated where Gina placed her.

The person who sits by Amy’s right returns to her seat. The frail-looking woman has pale grey hair pushed back by a pretty white headband and a kind face. When she glances over, Amy gives her a small smile before averting her gaze.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announces, “it’s time for Mr. and Mrs. Linetti to share their first dance as husband and wife.”

As everyone else sets their eyes on the couple making their way to the dance floor, Amy casts a look toward the next table at Jake, who’s staring across the other side of the room at… Jenny.

“Handsome, isn't he?”

“Yeah,” Amy murmurs back, then starts and drags her eyes back to the woman beside her. “Wait, what?”

She smiles and reaches out to pat the top of Amy’s hand where it rests on the edge of the table. The touch is warm and her palm smooth. “The man you’ve been watching the entire dinner. Is he yours?”

Amy flushes and reaches for her glass again. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Gina’s great aunt Susan. And you are?”

“Detective Amy Santiago, Gina’s co-worker.” She inclines her head politely. “Nice to meet you.”

Susan laughs lightly, but it doesn’t seem like she’s laughing at Amy in a cruel or mocking way like Gina’s laughter usually sounds like. It’s hard to believe Gina grew up with nice, normal people. “You as well, dear.” Susan nudges her. “So what’s the story behind you and that handsome man?”

“I haven’t been—” Amy cuts herself off before her voice can rise in defence, and instead says, “There is no story.”

Susan gives her a knowing look. “You’re lying.”

“There could have been a story,” she amends, musing about the past year. “We just never got the timing right. I started dating Teddy again and then Jake told me liked me, then I broke it off with Teddy because I realised I liked Jake too. But then Jake found Sophia and they dated for a while before breaking up. And Kylie’s been setting me up on a lot of dates that have gone terribly because I still like Jake and I don't know how he feels about me anymore. Now Jake’s obsessing over Jenny, the original woman who first broke his heart and whom he never got over.” When she’s done, she blinks and looks over at Susan to see her eyes are wide.

“Well… I’d say that’s quite a story.”

Amy smiles a closed-mouth smile, eyes straying. Jake’s standing by the dance floor looking like a kicked puppy as he watches Jenny dancing with her date. “But I’m over it. I have closure.”

“If you ask me,” Susan intones. “It sounds like it’s still being written. You kids have plenty of time, but nobody’s getting any younger. Namely me, so if you’re not going to hop on that, then I will.”

Amy tears her gaze away from the woeful scene to stare at the woman in shock. “Susan!”

“He has a dancer’s frame. Like I said, I’m not getting any younger. Would you introduce me?”

Amy can’t help it; she lets out a laugh at the crafty woman—she definitely sees the resemblance now.

* * *

As Jake leads Susan onto the dance floor, he playfully growls, “You,” and Amy giggles. Something about the way he’s looking at her stirs up something shy inside her.

Jake flinches. “She’s very hands-y!”

Amy laughs again, and continues to sway along with the music (and not pretending she’s swaying with him, of course). Watching Jake dance and smile at Susan, something dawns on Amy: all this time, she’s been unconsciously falling for Jake. Well, ‘falling’ isn’t the right word. It’s more like… drifting. Every laugh he stealthily pulls from her is another tiny piece of her heart missing, and it’s not until right now that she’s suddenly aware that a whole chunk of it is gone.

When the song leads into the second one and Jake twirls Susan around slowly before pulling her back, Amy realises something else. Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere that weddings rouse up; the songs about and emotional declarations of love, the romantic lighting and couples pairing off. But for the first time, right here, Amy actually feels herself _falling_ for this goofball.

She isn’t afraid of that—at least, not more than she’s afraid she’s lost the chance for him to catch her. Like one of those falling objects games; she’s the feather that falls so slowly he moves on to another while he waits, until he forgets about her completely and she’s slipped right past him.

She’s terrified she’s missed her chance, and she hates that things have gone back to complicated.


	18. captain peralta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And mention of brother number three.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

From the front of Shaw’s Bar, Amy can vaguely hear Boyle yelling something about Jake’s panties, and she automatically grimaces with disgust. Captain Holt excuses himself with a quick congratulations to Gina.

“So who are you taking?” Rosa asks, gesturing with her bottle to the tickets in Gina’s hand.

“Mmm, eenie”—Gina points to Amy first—“meenie”—Rosa—“you.” She grins, pastel blue fingernail pressing into the Sergeant’s chest.

He frowns at the contact. “Sorry Gina, but the only way Terry is going to see Beyoncé is if Sharon goes too.”

“But who else’s sexy shoulders can I sit on?” she mopes.

Amy’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she digs it out as Terry tries to console Gina and suggests her friends from Dance-y Reagan.

      **James**  
 **Where are you?**

Amy fired Julie after the last disastrous date—he was twice her age and talking about retiring in Florida. When her brother James got wind of it, he… well, first he laughed for three whole minutes, then complained of stomach cramps, and then suggested he set her up with a buddy of his from the 84th.  Amy, not trusting he was being serious, drilled him about his supposed buddy. Frank is a nice man born in the Bronx to a tight-knit family of four. He’s a smart and well-respected officer in the Bomb Squad, is allergic to cats and, apparently told a joke that made James laugh so hard he actually peed himself.  Still, she made him promise to make it a double date with he and his wife Emily so the four of them are meeting up for drinks at a bar a few streets over.

(She knows she’s trying out this whole ‘no cops’ rule, but honestly, it only applies to one particular cop.)

(She doesn’t know why _this_ particular cop.)

(Actually, that’s a lie; she knows why.)

She forgot about the double date until now. “Shoot,” she mutters.

“What’s wrong?” Rosa demands as Amy quickly types in her reply:  **On my way.**

“Oh, nothing,” she reassures with the wave of her hand. “I just forgot I have somewhere to be. I’ll see you guys later.”

Terry and Rosa bid farewell in their own way (a simple “Bye, Amy, be safe,” and a head nod, respectively), but Gina seems to be upset that Terry won’t be at the concert as her personal high chair. Nevertheless, Amy smiles and waves before slipping around patrons to get to Holly at one of the booths on the other side of the bar.  Holly’s a uniformed cop and an aspiring detective looking to get into the Intelligence Unit. She’s incredibly ambitious and they bonded when Amy bought her team a round after a successful close to a case a few months back.  Holly’s also guarding Amy’s purse for her at the moment.

With her purse in hand and a quick thanks to Holly, Amy once again weaves her way around people to get to the front where  Boyle, stuck like Velcro to Jake, catches her eye. “Listen, Jakey,” Boyle says a little wobbly, “I love you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“I know, buddy.”

Amy approaches with a ghost of a smile on her face.

“Hi,” Jake wheezes when he notices her.

“Hi,” she replies slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Ten-minute hug,” Boyle mutters against Jake’s shoulder. “He needs it. He’s sad about his dad.”

“I’m not sad about him.”

“It’s okay, Jake. Just let it out.”

“Well,” Amy says. “I can see you’re busy with”—she gestures to their embrace with the cell still in her hand—“that. So bye.”

“Whoa, hey—where you going?” Jake protests, struggling a little against Boyle, whose serene expression suddenly turns disgruntled. “I just got here. Come have a drink.”

“I can’t; I’m supposed to meet up with my brother and his wife.” _And my blind date with Frank, a man so funny he’s—figuratively speaking—the bomb._

Boyle makes a disapproving noise and pulls his face from Jake’s shoulder. “Tell them you fell down some stairs and can’t make it! Jake needs his two favourite people right now.”

Amy’s gaze shoots to Jake, but he waves it off dismissively, or at least he tries to.

“He’s drunk; doesn't know what he’s saying. Charles, bud? I think the ten minutes are up.”

Boyle reluctantly releases Jake with a sigh. “Okay.” Then he steps back and perks right up as he nudges Amy. “Your turn.”

Jake holds his hands up, as if to physically shield himself from her. “I’m good.”

Yeah, like she was actually going to attack him for a ten-minute hug.

(So why does it sting that he was quick to reject her?)

He takes a seat on the stool beside Boyle and pats the one on Jake’s other side. “But you can sit and tell me about how you failed the puzzle Holt gave you.”

Jake’s taunting her, she knows. But there’s something in his face that leads her to believe that maybe he’s doing it to distract himself. From whatever happened between him and his father. So she puts on a show and narrows her eyes defensively, dropping her purse onto the bar top. “I did not _fail_. I haven’t figured it out yet.” She shoots him a determined look. “And I’m going to.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Jake grins. “But I bet Four Drink Amy can’t figure it out.”

“You’re on.” She drops onto the stool beside him.

“Ooh.” Boyle pokes his head forward with an excited expression. “What’s the prize?”

Amy thinks for a moment as Jake hum’s and haw’s.

“My dad’s pilot hat,” Jake offers, swivelling around to face the bar like they are.

She frowns at that as Boyle gasps. “You didn’t!”

“I did.” Jake lifts a hand. “Bartender!”

As Boyle continues to freak out about the hat being in Jake’s possession, Amy sends a quick text to her brother.

**Something important came up. Reschedule?**


	19. sabotage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy writes down the last address for her half of potential suspects that Jake might’ve PO’ed. Rosa’s still finishing up at her desk so she makes her way over. “Normally, I’d be over the moon doing research, but after reading through information for thirty-nine people, I need a drink.”

“Agreed,” Rosa states. She jerks her chin and directs her gaze to her desk draw. “I have a bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“I meant coffee.” Lowering her voice and leaning forward, she whispers furtively, “Have you ever had alcohol while on duty?”

“Of course not. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“No!”

Rosa rolls her eyes, but stands and says, “You drive.”

* * *

“So, uh… Favourite type of music?” Amy chances a glance at Rosa in the passenger seat and winces at the stony look on her face that Amy deduces means _no_.

They’ve been in the car for five minutes and she thought being assigned to this case is the perfect opportunity to get to know Rosa better as friends—or at least Rosa’s version of one. Amy’s still learning the boundaries of the topic of conversation that wouldn’t result in digging a deeper scowl onto her face and that would produce more than one word answers.

  * ~~_The importance of interior maintenance for their police standard issue cars_~~
  * ~~_Music_~~
  * _Preferred liquor_
  * _Allergies_
  * _The string of robberies in the newspaper that the 87th Precinct is assigned_
  * _Guilty pleasure TV shows_
  * _Marcus_



Amy needs to be more stingy and space them out more. Don’t want to burn through all her material before they get to the bottom of Jake’s situation.

They’re now at a cafe about a block away from Brooklyn Urine & Blood where the results of Jake’s urine sample is. They’ve just ordered their cappuccinos, extra foam for Rosa—interesting—and are standing on one end to wait for their drinks to be made.  The cafe’s buzzing with conversation from the customers and staff, light music from the speakers and a jumble of kitchen appliance sounds, but the silence between them is highly uncomfortable.  Amy’s about to bring up their little misunderstanding from back at the precinct in the form of a joke to naturally lead into the discussion of liquor, when her personal phone rings in her blazer pocket.  She notes the name flashing on her screen and swallows her groan. “Mom!” she exclaims quietly, hunching her shoulders and turning her back on Rosa, as if that would prevent Rosa from hearing her side of the conversation. “This is so inappropriate; I’m working!”

“Hi _mija_ ,” she chirps. “James called me.”

This time, Amy can’t hold back the groan because she knows exactly where this is heading. James was always a momma’s boy and can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially when it’s at Amy’s expense.

“I didn't know you're wanting dates! I know some people who would love to meet you, _mija_.”

“I’m not really interest, Mom.”

Amy sneaks a look over her shoulder. Rosa’s watching their barista making their drinks like a hawk, as if the woman’s going to mess up their order somehow. “Can we talk about this later?”

Her mother manages to wrangle out a promise that Amy will visit before they hang up, and Amy turns to cast an apologetic look to Rosa.

“My mom’s like that too.”

“Like what?” Amy’s too curious about what Rosa thinks Mom’s like to be surprised she’s taken initiative to start up the ultimate personal conversation piece: family.

Rosa rolls her eyes, diverting her attention for the first time from the barista. “Prying into my private life.”

“You don't tell your mother anything?”

“Of course I tell her things. When she calls to ask how I am, I tell her I’m low-medium and still at the 99.”

Amy’s lips twitch. “Is that the standard answer? Are you always low-medium?” Sounds like a temperature at which to be cooked.

“Unless I get to taser someone for work, I’m low-medium.”

“And if you’re the one getting tasered, are you medium-high?” she jokes, hoping for a crack of a smile in Rosa's cool façade.

No such luck—in fact, Amy thinks she sees a crack of thunder coming out of Rosa’s ear as her expression grows stormy.

“If I’m tasered, the bastard who did it is dead meat.” Despite the aggravation that’s rolling off her in waves now, Rosa uttered it in a deadpanned tone.

Amy knows Rosa’s being one hundred percent serious, so she has to stifle her laugh at the responding joke that pops into her head:

_More like burned meat, he-eey._


	20. AC/DC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

“Why are you so mean to me?”

“Wow.”

Amy and Gina are by the entrance of Captain Holt’s residence, sharing the bottle of wine between them as they wait for their cab that would take them back to the subway.  Amy’s chugged enough of the wine to be buzzed and have loosened her tongue to broach the subject that’s been bugging her since she first met Gina.

Through the lights placed on the small gate posts and the street lamps above a few feet away, Amy sees Gina tilt her head and give her something akin to a pitying look. “First, I’m not mean; I drop truth bombs,” she says, miming an explosion with her hand. “And two, don’t think you’re so special; I’m that way to everyone.”

Amy frowns at the condescending tone, but doesn’t further broach the subject. “Whatever. Just forget it.”

It’s not like she expected Gina would start bawling and apologising for the insults in the years they’ve been working together. But a little flicker of remorse for her behaviour would have sufficed.

Maybe Amy should’ve brought her car instead of trying to do her part in helping the environment. She’s not looking forward to the subway ride home. There could be weirdos.

Gina takes a drag from the wine before sighing. “Look, I wouldn’t treat you that way if I didn’t think you could handle it.” Amy looks over just in time to see Gina roll her eyes. “I’m not cruel.”

“What makes you think I can handle it?”

“I grew up with Jake— _one_ boy, and there were times he did and said the most rudest, annoying and/or disgusting things. You grew up with, like, ten. Respect, sister.”

Amy’s brows rise. Well, this is more than she expected. She’s about the look a gift horse in the mouth when, smiling, she asks, “Really?”

“I mean, at first you seem like a spineless people-pleaser, but when push comes to shove, you stand up for yourself.”

Pursing her lips, Amy shakes her head with a small huff of a laugh. “Well, this is me standing up for myself: I don’t like when you insult me, truth or not. In fact, a compliment or two when deserved would be nice.” She lifts a finger and points it at her to drive her point home.

Gina doesn’t say anything for an uncomfortably long pause; just stares Amy down her nose through disinterested eyes.

(It seems like Gina’s always staring people down despite her being the shortest in the precinct. Doesn’t her neck hurt from tilting her head that far back to pull off that look?)

Gina smiles then, as if reading her thoughts. “Noted.”

* * *

They're drunk.

Like, _su_ -per drunk.

The cab took longer than they thought to find them and by the time it rolled up, the bottle of wine was empty. The subway ride back to the city was uneventful, but there was one weirdo sitting in the corner of the carriage grinning at the pole in front of her.  Now they’re exiting the subway platform and out into the city streets.  Amy tugs on Gina’s arm. “We should probably get some food in our stomach.”

Gina cringes and puts up her hand. “No need to yell, boo.”

_Oops_. Didn’t realise she was. “Sorry,” she says at an acceptable decibel. “We should probably get—”

“Yeah,” Gina interrupts, “heard you loud and clear the first time.”

Amy leads them down the streets of Brooklyn to a bodega she passes every day about a block from her apartment. She’s never been in there before, wary of whether the store is sanitary, but in the spirit of being ‘chill’ she’s not only going to buy something but eat it too.  The neon sign out front buzzes loudly, and as Amy pushes her way inside, the motion sensors for the glass door dings. It looks cleaner than she expected; the products neatly stacked on shelves are logically grouped into aisles, and the floors are scuffed up but there aren’t any food scraps or other trash. Certainly much tidier than the clutter of flyers and graffiti on the windows and door.  Immediately to her left is a large man with a goatee sitting behind the cash register with a black Scarface hoodie.

“Why is it so bright in here?” Gina demands.

Amy spots a small rack of sunglasses beside the register and ambles over. “Here.” Plucking one off she throws it to Gina as the guy makes a choked sound.

“Thanks, babe.” Gina catches it smoothly and slides it onto her face before disappearing into one of the aisles.

Amy scans the rest of the rack, looking for a good one. “How’s this?” Sliding a cute heart-shaped one onto her face, she turns her head this way and that.

The guy purses his lips. “No.”

She switches for a dark brown round-rimmed one. “What about this?”

“Are you going to buy anything?” he asks in an accusatory and defensive tone.

“Hey man,” Amy says cooly, leaning an elbow on the counter and tilting her head back to grin at him. “ _Chill_.”

“Hey,” Gina shouts from somewhere within the store. “Are these double-A batteries fresh?”

Amy giggles and twists around to gauge where she is. A rack of stickers catches her eye. “Ooh. Pretty.” She picks up the packet of stickers with smiling faces on flowers with praise underneath, such as ‘Well done!’ and ‘Fantastic work!’.

“Oi, what are you doing?” the guy asks, and Amy turns to find Gina at the fruit stand by the door, holding an orange.

She’s like a ninja; Amy didn’t hear or see her walk back to the front of the store.

“Sniffing the oranges to see if they’re good.” Gina’s gaze swing her way. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”  Amy adopts a lost expression then looks to the guy questioningly.

He shakes his head, and Amy turns back to Gina and does the same with a solemn expression.

“Then how are you s’pposed to know they’re good?” Gina slurs exasperatingly and stops her foot.

“Whoa, calm down, lady,” the guy says, thick hands held out.

Gina narrows her eyes. “Did you just call me _lady_?”

“Okay, seriously, are you going to buy anything? Because if not, please get out.”

Amy snorts. “ _This country, you gotta make the money first_ ,” she quotes in a deep voice and heavy Cuban accent. “ _Then when you get the money, you get the pow’r. Then when you get the pow’r,_ then _you get the women_.”

His face goes slack with astonishment and then he grins broadly. “You a fan?”

She wouldn’t consider herself a fan, per se. Her brother loves that film and made them watch it every year on his birthday. She knows it front and back.

“Listen, so I have this friend—”

“Whoa," Gina interrupts loudly, sliding her sunglasses down her nose to give the guy a stink eye. She sidles up next to Amy and throws an arm around Amy’s shoulders. “She’s not going anywhere or doing anything with you. So if we can get these to go”—she gestures to her sunglasses—“we’ll be out of your hair.”

“I also want your Scarface hoodie,” Amy adds hastily and Gina laughs. “Fifty bucks.”

The guy balks and pinches the hoodie with his thumb and finger. “I’m not wearing anything under this.”

“One hundred,” Gina demands.

“ _Two_ hundred,” Amy says, slamming a hand down on the counter with finality.


	21. det. dave majors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy settles onto the plush chair, and she’s surprised when, instead of sitting across the round coffee table, Majors settles in the one next to hers. Though she can’t say she’s more surprised that he guided her to this part of the super exclusive bar, where the lighting makes it seem more… intimate.

“Um, good work with the case,” she says before bringing her highball glass up to her lips for a sip of her cocktail.

“Yeah.” He smirks cooly, leaning back with an arm across his chair. “Yeah, you too.”

Amy rolls her lips together and scans the crowd. “So where’s Jake?”

Majors tilts his head at her, the scruff shifting around his mouth as a confused smile blossoms. “Why would he be here?”

“Well, he was on the case too and pretty much cracked it. I figured he’d jump at the chance to have a celebratory drink with you.”

He frowns, scratching his jaw. “Ah. You didn’t know this was a…?”

_Oh_. “A date?” she squeaks.

“Sorry, I thought—”

“Oh, no. It’s fine. It—You’re great. I have a huge professional crush on you, but...”

He smiles wryly. “But not personal.” It’s a statement. Said with a confidence that seems to embody him in everything he does, even when he’s being shot down.

Amy admires that about him. Which begs the question: what is she doing? Here is a perfectly nice guy who doesn’t rant about his cat or ask her uncomfortable, probing questions. He’s cool in every way and he’s _interested_ in her.

“It’s Peralta, isn’t it? You’re into him.”

Amy stutters silently, averting her eyes down to her drink. Then she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind, “I’m not supposed to date cops.”

“ _Supposed_ to?” He chuckles. “You’re not one of those ‘don’t shit where you eat’ people, are you?”

Her chuckle comes out as an exhale through her nose and sets her drink under the coaster on the table. “That’s… one way to put it.”

He sets his tumbler of whiskey down as well. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“How a beautiful woman like you is still single. C’mon.”

Amy smiles, but it feels forced. Is that all he sees in her? They spent the whole day together working on a case and yet the only compliment he’s given her is how she looks. “I guess I prefer someone who sees me as more than just a pretty face.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” His hands come up defensively.

“So you want to know why I’m still single? It’s hard finding a decent enough guy that I like.” She couldn't resist the jab, but she didn’t say it with any heat behind the words.

Still, he winces and comments half-heartedly, “Ouch.”

“Didn’t mean it like that,” she parrots, bringing her hands up just as he did moments before.

“Okay.” He nods in defeat, laughing a little. “I deserved that.”

Amy grins. “You kind of did.”

“Maybe you’re just looking in the wrong places.”

“I’ve recruited my friend to set me up with her friends, but…” It dawns on her then that every single man Kylie’s set her up with are weirdos. Oh god. _Is that woman doing it intentionally?_ Amy needs to have a serious talk with her so called friend.

“But…?” Majors prompts, raising his brows expectantly.

“But I’m sure you don’t want to listen to me talk about another guy.”

“Hey, I don’t blame you. Peralta’s a good guy.”

Nodding, Amy drops her head and tucks her hair behind her ears.

“I guess I’m just wondering… what’s the hold up, you know? I noticed a serious vibe between you two and was surprised when he told me there’s nothing going on between you guys.”

This isn’t exactly a conversation Amy wants to have with him. Or if she has it her way, it’s not a conversation to be had with anyone, period.  Things changed after her talk with Rosa and Gina at the beach house. And although the closure talk with Jake didn’t particularly work out the way she hoped, it did work enough to give her the strength to emotionally take a step back.

_(_ Is it strength, though? Or cowardice?)

But then her revelation at the wedding…  Her feelings for Jake definitely aren’t put in the past. They’re very much in the present and weighing heavily on her chest like a gigantic rock in a row boat.

If she’s being honest, her idea of her perfect man hasn’t changed. She realised those ideas are the personification of Jake Peralta. He’s unpredictable and that ignites an exciting passion within her.  But the reasons to stay away haven’t changed. It’s that same unpredictability that she can’t ensure a stability between _them_. Amy can’t gauge where Jake’s heart is at about her. H e’s always one to jump into things without thinking them through, and it’s hard to pull him back up and out of it. She doesn’t want to be something Jake decides in a snap second call. She also doesn’t want to be a rebound or second choice. He was so quick and adamant to fall for Sophia, and she doesn’t know if he’s ever really gotten over Jenny. He’s like a cow or a horse in the sense that he’ll climb up the stairs with no problem, but getting him down them is difficult.

There is one thing Amy’s more than curious about: if Jake’s past feelings are more present than past, why her? What does chaotic Jake see in consistent Amy?

She jerks when a hand clasps around her knee. “Amy?” Majors prompts.

“I’m sorry.” Amy shakes her head and heaves a deep breath, wishing that what she’s inhaling isn’t the stale smoke and alcohol that cloud this place.

“Hey, don’t apologise. You can’t control how you feel,” he states, as if reading her thoughts. Or maybe he just thinks she’s apologising for something else. “It’s cool.”

She licks her lips and glances up at him. Behind that bush on his face, he’s smiling slightly. She can’t tell if it’s real or what. “Do you mind not telling… about this?” She gestures vaguely between them.

Majors nods and the hand still on her knee squeezes in some form of reassurance. “I got your back, Santiago.”


	22. the chopper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very Kylie-dialogue heavy. It was my intention to build up the second half of the season to this moment where it (hopefully) sheds more light into what’s been going on with Amy.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17

Amy cranes her neck above the other patrons at Krescendo to look through the glass window at the front of the restaurant from where she’s sitting in the back corner. She’s meeting Kylie here for dinner in this quaint restaurant with a great atmosphere and tasty food.

Kylie called her a few days ago with a new blind date for her. Instead of accepting, Amy utilised that opportunity to ask her friend out to dinner. Amy’s planning on questioning Kylie’s intentions and judgement with the quality of guys she’s choosing for Amy.  When Kylie first brought up the idea, she told Amy to trust her. She said she knows what Amy needs.  Well, either Kylie doesn’t know Amy at all or she’s delusional if she thinks Amy would find any of the strange men thrown her way attractive. Both of which Amy finds hard to believe, since they’ve been friends for years and Kylie is a successful lawyer. She’s incredibly smart and intuitive.

“Amy.”

At the sound of her name, she lifts her gaze from the dark and shiny wooden table.

Kylie Huang is not only smart, but she’s beautiful and honest to a fault. Amy secretly thinks that’s her secret to such a pretty soul; Kylie is truthful in everything she does. Kylie's still dressed in her suit from what Amy knows was over nine hours at work, and she still looks fresh and unruffled.

Standing, Amy accepts the hug in which Kylie wraps her before they pull away and settle into their seats.

“So.” Kylie sighs, smiling across the table at her. “How was work?”

“Good, actually. A few of my co-workers and I helped our Sergeant get his twins off the waitlist for a magnet school.” Amy watches with raise brows as Kylie takes multiple gulps of the wine Amy took the liberty of ordering for them both when she arrived. “Long day? 

“Every day is long,” Kylie answers after her half-full glass is empty. “But I’m going to be partner one day and it’ll all be worth it.”

Their waitress comes and takes their order, bringing their small talk to an abrupt halt. When all that’s done, Amy takes the opportunity to change the subject to the reason for this dinner.  “Alright, enough chit chat.” Amy squints. “Did I do something to you? Are you punishing me? What’s with all the… the losers you’ve set me up with? Why are you doing this?”

Kylie purses her lips. “How are you and Jake?”

“Wha…?” The rest of her sentence dies on her lips as her suspicions clear and she registers that Kylie all but admitted her deception. _I knew it_. She knew it. Anger grips her stomach, making Amy feel nauseous. She doesn’t like being mad at her friend, but this isn't what good friends do. “Kylie, what the hell?”

“You’re my friend, Amy. I want nothing more than for you to be happy.” Kylie sighs, shoulders drooping and she suddenly looks tired and unkempt. “I had real suitors for you at the beginning. They were great guys I knew you'd get a long with, but after the third one didn't work out—You just… You’ve had so many chances.”

Amy props her elbows onto the table—proper table etiquette be damned—and rubs her forehead with both hands. She drops them and tries not to glare at her friend. “Chances to do what?”

“To get over Jake.”

Amy rolls her eyes, then scoffs. “Whaat?” she squeezes out in a voice higher than she intended. “I am over him. What makes you think I’m not? I am _so_ over him.”

“Right," she says dryly.

“I am. Look, things with Jake is complicated. I don’t like that it confuses me. It’s… It’s _messy_. I need—I want simple and easy and-and _clean_ ,” she emphasises, remembering Jake using that word in the break room last week.

“Don’t give me that, Amy,” Kylie retorts in a firm voice. “You forget that I know you. You’re _making_ it more complicated than it is because you’re overthinking it. You do this, you know. When something is that important to you, you analyse it to the point where you scare yourself into not following through with it.

The back of Amy’s nose pricks and she’s horrified to learn that she’s actually tearing up. “I…”

“You said you want a simple life?” She laughs, the sound full of humour and disbelief. “You grew up in a house overflowing with testosterone. As much as you hate it, simple and easy and order aren’t enough for you, no matter how much you tell yourself you want it.”

Kylie softens her gaze and reaches forward across the table to grip a hand. “You’re afraid, babe. You’re afraid that things between you and Jake won’t work out. That it’ll be a huge disappointment and ruin your friendship.”

“I’m not afraid,” Amy fires back weakly.

“I’ve been keeping close tabs on you since Jake came back. It was easier to admit you wanted something with him when you were with Teddy or when Jake wasn’t available. Do you know why?”

Amy opens her mouth to say something that would sound logical or to tell her that everything she’s said so far is wrong and completely off-track, but she can’t.

It's fine, though, because Kylie’s on a roll and here say her piece. “Because there was an excuse not to follow through with your feelings. You’ve managed to keep him at a distance; far enough that things won’t get too complicated, but close enough that it's obvious to me that you still want him.”

The waitress comes back with their order and Amy’s granted a half hour of reprieve as they eat in relative silence. Kylie’s mouth is busy shoving down pasta, but Amy's still feeling the aftermath of her words.

For eight months, Amy’s been waging a confusing and headache-inducing war between her head and heart. Against what she wants and what she craves; stability and chaos.

The very thing she loves about Jake, she’s… afraid of.

* * *

Kylie’s sitting back in her chair, nursing her second glass of wine and watching Amy with a calculating stare when Amy irritatedly asks what she’s thinking.

“James called me a few weeks ago and told me you canceled on that double date he set up. Why?”

Amy bristles. Since when were her friends all buddy-buddy with her brothers? “I just—”

“You were with Jake, weren’t you?” It’s posed as a question, but Amy knows her well enough to know that this is her courtroom voice and Kylie the Lawyer only asks questions to which she already knows the answer.

“He needed me,” she answers in a feeble attempt to excuse the real reason why.

“Bullshit.”

_He had Boyle, who was better equiped to handle Jake and the fallout of Roger Peralta—I was the distraction._ Selfishly, that bothers Amy a little. She knew very well what her role was that night and she went along with it because she didn’t like seeing Jake that way.

“Eight months ago,” Kylie says, “you told me you wanted a relationship filled with passion and adventure; something more than easy and clean. Underneath all that love for order, you secretly crave the thrill of excitement and craziness that life brings you. But you never take actual risks when it counts. So let me ask you this: do you have real feelings for Jake?”

Amy lips her lips and stalls with a drink. Swallowing the sharp tang down, she heaves a breath. “I do,” she murmurs and Kylie smiles triumphantly. It’s the first time she’s admitted it aloud and it feels both terrifying and liberating. “I’m very much falling for him and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Bringing a shaky hand to finger the edge of her plate, she frowns. A part of her doesn’t _want_ to stop it.

“Then tell me something, Amy: are you so paralysed by fear that you’ll never take a chance with the only man who’s worth it?”

Amy looks up. “How do you know he’s worth it?”

“How do you know he’s not?” Kylie shoots back, and _argh_ , Amy hates when she does that. “I’ve never seen you so hung up on a guy, Amy.”

Maybe Kylie’s right. About everything.

Amy doesn’t know whether or not Jake is worth risking things, and she will never know.

Until she gives them a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think and don’t be afraid to voice any disagreements and/or other ideas you may have in mind. I’m curious to know your take—on this work or canon.


	23. johnny and dora

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought it’d keep it short and simple for this last one.
> 
> Edited: 18/12/17.

_What the hell?_

Amy’s in the evidence room, trying to process that  Captain Holt is leaving. This can’t be real.

Add that to the list of things to freak out about is that she and Jake kissed—not once, but _twice_.

And she liked it. A lot. There was nothing weird or confusing or scary about kissing him.

Amy hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her conversation with Kylie two days ago. Well, the term ‘conversation’ is stretching it; Kylie just dumped an oral form of an analytical essay Amy’s way and hit the bullseye every time as she verbalised the complicated feelings churning through Amy for the better part of the year.

Fear. Is that all to which it really boils down?

Fear of things getting weird between them. Fear that everything’s going to change. Fear that Jake doesn’t feel the same way she does.

But things _have_ changed. Things neither of them can control. And no matter how much Amy’s tried to make things more normal and keep things professional, things just got awkward and weird; the very thing she was trying to avoid.

And now Captain Holt is leaving.

( _What the hell!?_ )

At the sound of the door opening, she turns and finds she’s not exactly surprised to see that it’s Jake walking in; that he’s found her.

* * *

They pull away from their _third_ kiss—but something about it feels different, more earnest and real and honest than either have been for a long time, or maybe ever—and Amy comes to a startling realisation: Jake Peralta is chaos. He frustrates her, challenges her and makes her life exciting. He’s fun and dorky and loud and imperfectly perfect.

He’s nothing she thought she wanted, but everything she knows she needs. He’s the opposite of who she is and they clash in the best way possible.

A year ago, Amy was wrong—and yes, she can admit it. In her world of black and white, Jake doesn’t just smudge the lines for greys; he unceremoniously splashes an array of vibrant colours that seep into her life. For all the craziness that Jake whips up around them, she’s starting to see that she finds stability _within_ them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments welcomed. Constructive criticism encouraged.


End file.
